Wrath

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The things I treasure most in life ... cannot be taken away.

I'll have to look for another place
to hide all my belongings
I'll try to find all that I've lost
for so many years I've been longing

I've lost so much...
but the thing I miss the most is my sanity.

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I had a very weird dream last night, and I woke up really, really angry. But hey, at least I'm not depressed. Maybe I've found this way of channeling my depression/agony into wrath/anger.

Maybe I am sad. Sadness equals fear, equals anger. The equation of my life.

I decided to go nomad for a while, and just walk around my neighborhood for a while. It was ... satisfying. A pack of cigarettes, a troubled mind, the dry - hot Riyadh weather, and the breeze of wind to make sure you remember it's still winter. This is what made my "walk" satisfying.

Oh, and then of course was the feeling of being completely lonely, that gives me this other feeling. It's not a bad feeling, or maybe it is, but all I know is, I like it. Maybe it's my way of getting away from it all, or just my way of fulfilling my need to be cut off from the rest of the world for a couple of minutes. In my head, the space of my own. Where I go to think, or to stop thinking. They're both the same thing to me, because I start thinking for my sake, when I decide to stop thinking for (or about) everyone and everything else. I need space. My head is where I go to find it.

I was up a few nights in succession, and penned a few thoughts, scribbled a few lines. One thing I wrote down, which I remember right now, was;

"I write. I'm a 'poet'. Everything is art to me, and everything is poetic. Nature is art, and my life and me living it, is art too. And therefore I stay sad ... But I can't complain. It's just poetic justice."

Being sad, being an indirect reference to being Bipolar.

So bipolar ... but I owe my life to it, in a sense. Bear in mind, I'm not judging my life or explaining if it is satisfactory or not. You decide. I have made a mental note, an objective, to stick to it and not worry if it's up to par or not. Because the leash is in my hand, and I can steer ... then why complain? As far as writing down my thoughts of this thunderstorm in my head is concerned ... that's what I do. Don't think of it as complaining, this makes me happy for a while. Having a place to let go off your thoughts is a luxury ... knowing how to, is a gift. And I like luxuries. I'm thankful for my gifts.