I never knew the primal nature of safety until now.

Blog

By: Konijja Jaannah

2020: The Year of the Pandemic.

My life’s perception changed. When I started to see the truth, the real truth of life. What it meant. What it meant for you to live here. What we know subconsciously, but what nobody tells us.

We are taught to not trust strangers, those who are our guardianships are those who are related to us or have been appointed to be our guardians. And at one point, I believed it. I believed that a normal familial environment is your home, a place of safety. But I am a woman. I am first a woman before I am anything else before I am a daughter, sister, friend, or romantic interest. I am a woman. I am a woman who went through physical growth, I am now a woman with shaped and widened hips, rounder and bigger breasts, and a curved butt. And as a woman living in this jaded and unfortunate society with big breasts, these two-ballooned tissue fat have changed the precedent of my life. I am no longer safe in my environment. I say as a woman, yet there is a grey area because even as a girl you are exposed to the dangers of people, you have terribly pained events inflicted on you by people around you because of your autonomy, and the physical body you wear. Thus, it begs the question of what does safety mean for females? Every woman I know (me included) has stories of assault that have been done by the people around them rather than the strangers in passing. So, what does anything we are taught mean?

“To survive, mammals must determine friend from foe, evaluate whether the environment is safe, and communicate with their social unit.”

The gradual growth of transforming from a girl to a woman will inevitably expose you to more misfortunes as you exist in this society. For me, the realisation occurred when living with my grandma in the summer of 2020, keeping her company in her empty home as she battles her elderly age of illness and loneliness. Before the pandemic, men were too busy with capitalism and laboured work to notice females other than their wives until their world halted. They had nowhere to go and are now stuck with their wives who nagged, and the light bickering turned into heated and daily arguments. Their shadowed nature leaked, leaked, leaked until it spilt onto you. A 22-year-old girl who had fluctuated due to eating healthier and better, who had stronger bones which led her to have fatter tissues in her chest became the fallen target. You have become the prey, and the attacker is the one who is ‘meant’ to protect you, that is ‘meant’ to keep you safe. He briefly touches the top of your butt but, watches, and watches, and watches your changed bodily chest.

“The perception of safety determined whether the behaviour will be prosocial (i.e., social engagement) or defensive.”

I found the meaning of life in 2022. After I graduated in Psychology that year, I felt loneliness, and it was a strange emotion because I am so comfortable with being alone, solitude is my second skin. I did wonder where did the loneliness stem from, and it was the thought that nobody cares, there is nobody really here for you, and nobody really sees you. There is no capacity for care, they cannot pick you up, and they cannot save you. They cannot stop the growing pains and the traumatic sting that befriends you, they cannot do a thing for you. In this fast-growing society, they have to think for themselves, and have their own healing to do. It is the realisation that it is you that will have to save yourself, you must find the light yourself, to find strength and escape. Nobody can do it for you.

Dealing with the muddy stuff and the shadow of the person I have become, made me ask what did this life mean? What does it mean to live amongst all these jaded folks who are also going through the darkness? What I have learnt in the midst of keeping myself afloat, and emulating anti-social behaviour with a splash of avoidance behaviour is that we are alone. We are not alone technically as we are 8 billion people living in this world, but in actuality we are alone. Of course, you have family, friends, and lovers, but they don’t owe you anything at all. They will have limited ability to help you. You are the one who has to save yourself. I didn’t know how significant the notion of feeling safe was until I lost the essence, the notion, of the person’s presence who enveloped me with safety. Where once upon a boy from many years ago kept me safe until it didn’t come to me anymore. It’s blocked energy.

The truth? For one to feel safe is everything. It is the mere essence that allows our mental, spiritual, and physical being to flourish and that feeling cannot be given by anybody else. I came across this passage in a book about enlightenment written by Osho: “People don’t want to be responsible; they are afraid of responsibility. They want someone else to take care of them; they always need guardians. These are the people who are getting neurotic because the guardians are no longer there. In fact, they were never there; you believed in them and they were there only because you believed in them. Now the belief has disappeared, they have also disappeared. They were created by your belief.” Reading this, thinking about our conditioned state makes me understand how immobile the system of our society is. The norms, values, and social constructs that we believe in don’t essentially mean anything.

I discovered the power of aloneness at a very young age, but it has a new meaning now. It is my safety, defence, and ailment. I wish people were enlightened by aloneness. It is a known fact that we are social beings, we need the feel of community and people to thrive and connect. That being said, we should be comfortable with solitude too. It is you who has to move to the light, to the healing. And as I seek to be safe, I have found hope to be my vessel, to be my will to live. It is an addicting sensation that makes you feel excited about the future despite, the plot twists of your life. And hope is what I swathe myself in as I wait to be admitted to the school(s) within the city of New York for MFA Creative Writing (Fiction). It is the city that made me feel the most alive, made me fall in love with the people and culture, and made me feel the most at peace within their community. It revived the feeling to live. To hope is to live. To hope is to give me a reason to live and hope has given me a choice to seek safety. Because feeling safe is all that we have.

Reference

PORGES, S.W. (2003), Social Engagement and Attachment. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1008: 31-47. https://doi.org/10.1196/annals.1301.004

Enlightenment Is Your Nature: The Fundamental Difference Between Psychology, Therapy, and Meditation. (2017). United Kingdom: Watkins Media.

Chapter Ten

Blog, Creative Writing

He changed his hoodie to a beanie, his beauty stark and enhanced by the small difference. I watched him as he went up, feeling the mesmerised pull, wanting to get closer. But then my heart stopped, my body warmed up and my heart thudded crazily against my chest. He pulled the desk upwards and sat down, his clean scent travelled to my nose, my eyes were on him the whole time, swirling in a whirlwind of emotions in my head. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he laughed, his smile drifted to my heart, warming the chambers and pumping blood through the body. “Is that how it’s always going to be?”

“I don’t know, can I ask why you are sitting next to me?” I asked, remembering what he said the last time, and the memory of using him as an anchor to find light too fresh in my mind.

“I don’t know, my body led me here. I was walking up but then I saw you, I think I was drawn to you,” he absentmindedly whispered, his eyes guarded and regarding me with an expression that seemed like he couldn’t figure me out.

“Interesting,” I commented, familiar with his dilemma.

“Yeah, are you okay?” He questioned, at that moment my voice decided to get stuck on my throat, my mind still trying to figure out how of all days he had chosen to sit beside me and ask if I’m okay was when I had a mental, emotional breakdown and used him to escape not too long ago. What kind of voodoo telepathic shit was going on?

“I’m okay,” I finally answered, “are you okay?”

“I’m good,” and that was the end of our conversation since Professor McCormick rushed into the auditorium, greeting us whilst he set himself up.

“Sorry for being late, traffic in this city surprises me every day, still getting used to it,” he chuckled, eliciting a light laughter from the most of us.

“At least you are here now,” a student said.

“That’s right, at least I am here,” he heaved, starting up his laptop and putting up the PowerPoint for today.

“I like him,” I whispered to Ricardo, I looked over his face, his aura putting me in a trance, finding it hard to pull away.

“I like him too,” he repeated, laughing at his response, now the both of us are sharing a laugh.

“You gonna repeat everything I say?” I shot back the words he threw at me earlier.

“Yeah,” he deadpanned, his face feigned seriousness but his eyes deceived him as the dark orbs were twinkling with humour. There was ease and comfort in his presence, his eyes kind and yet guarded, most importantly, he made me feel safe and secure in his space despite the handful of times we had saw and spoken to each other. We worked together throughout the lesson, savouring the feel of being in his presence, the feelings of intensity flamed between us, becoming harder to contain every time our eyes met.

Hopeless laughter fallen from my lips when he became engrossed in his beliefs and conceptual ideas, his eyebrows quirked up whenever I disagreed with his perspective. The current topic was society, “you can’t change my belief on this society being man-made, I don’t believe in it,” I said.

“We need a society to moralise us, and guide us through this life. You know a switch? Why do you plug your phone in the switch? Because that’s the norm, that’s how you’re meant to be charging your phone and using electrical devices,” he returned with passion, answering his own questions, his eyes widening, his face playful, wearing a smirk on his face, Ricardo was convinced that he is right.

“Just because we do it doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do. We are conditioned to do things and this society is obsessed with values that doesn’t make any sense, that are limiting to our human bodies and minds. They have obsessions with identities and labels, just because they exist doesn’t mean it’s right, it can be restrictive and controlling. The whole system is used to control us, conditions us to a way of life that is unnatural whilst making us work to sustain an organisation that keeps us divided and disorganised. Divide and conquer is still a belief that they weaponise you know?” Using all of my competitive nature to win this heated discussion. “It’s okay to be wrong sometimes,” I muttered teasingly, observing his face and sneaking a smile.

“I’m gonna get you back.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I relished in this moment of simply talking, having a light-hearted debate. His eyes on my face made me feel giddy, there was something unfurling between us, it was too intense to hide or ignore. The growing feelings filled up my soul, wanting more of him. I know I am walking in a dangerous path that has too many uncertainties that will lead to me getting hurt, but at this moment as we are exchanging smiles and glances of eyes, the energised connection and our conversations became something more, it felt worth it, whatever was happening between us was real. I know it.

“Alright class, you can go. See you on Wednesday, stay safe and have a good day,” Professor McCormick shouted.

“I know you feel it,” I whispered as we walked out the class. Ricardo waited for me to go through the door he held open, his eyes were silently watching me, his hands holding the door wide open, “thank you,” I say at last. The foreign emotions heightened at his chivalry, I never had someone hold the door open for me.

“It doesn’t matter nothing can happen, too much is going on with my life. I’m not where I want to be in my life, please try to understand,” he said, his voice almost pleading.

“You don’t want me,” I murmured, the insecurities buried inside me slithering up.

“It’s not that easy, Kalina. Life isn’t always straight-forward, there are things I need to straighten out, I need to focus on my music, I want to make it in life. I’m not where I want to be, I can’t like you because I’m not ready for someone like you,” he slowly uttered, his voice asserting conviction as if he has been thinking about this for a long time. His hands disappeared inside his jean pockets, the beanie on his head framed his strong features, enchanting his jawline, nose, and mouth.

Not ready to take any of it in, I shake it off, “can we at least talk, nothing needs to happen but we can still talk right?” I asked, anticipating his answer. He didn’t say anything, he nodded his head, tearing his eyes away from me. I ignored the insecurities and devastating words from the past trying to inch up.

“What are you doing now?” He suddenly said.

“Nothing.”

“Would you want to get a bite?”

“Sure,” we strolled side by side, the silence was comfortable. Even with the chilled breeze the sun was shining in the sky, brightening the streets, the colour of the trees was rich green, beautifying the pathway. I admired the city’s natural elements of the rustling trees, the honking and skidding vehicles as they wait in the long strings of traffic. NYU students and New Yorkers talked amongst each other, some walked alone, some with groups of people, the smell of various cultural food wafted through the air. “Where are we going?” I asked, watching him to already find his eyes on me.

“You try tacos?” He asked.

“No, I haven’t, I haven’t had a chance to explore food and restaurants in London.”

“It’s a Mexican and Caribbean food place, one of the best spots for tacos in Manhattan,” he said, distracted by his side profile, taking a glimpse of his beauty and slants that endowed his face.

“Are you Jamaican?” I questioned, scared I may get it wrong but I’m sure that I’m right.

“I am, how did you know?”

“United Kingdom have predominant Jamaican population, I grew up around them,” I said, relieved that I was right.

“That’s cool, I am aware. Many of my family went to U.K, many of them live in Birmingham and London, the ancestry before us moved around 1950s, after World War Two. Britain brought vast amount of Caribbean folks, mainly Jamaicans to do work for them, to build their economy, they were part of the Windrush era. My parents chose to come here rather than going to the U.K.”

“Wow. I always wondered why my grandfather chose to settle there after working as a labourer in British ships during colonial Singapore,” the questions and thoughts kept nagging at me, wanting answers but finding none, simply trying to justify his reasons at the time. “I came up with the answer that Bangladesh was unliveable with famine, war and devastation and living in Britain was a safer option, especially more so because he was a British citizen since he was a labourer, working on the ships in Singapore, for the British empire.”

“I can see that, racial disparity and diaspora is always a challenging aspect of history and life to navigate and adding slavery, colonialism, and imperialism. The British empire is disgusting and it should be acknowledged. That’s why we can relate and connect with each other in some way despite our differences. Communities for our people are fundamental, essential part of life, community is a way of life,” he expressed.

“I can see that,” imitating his earlier words, both of us laughing at our constant repetitive responses. “Community is important, our people only had each other, we always have been for the people. Even when we are living in an individualistic society, in a space where we need to make something of ourselves, fighting for our dreams, we always come back to the people, paying them back and taking care of them. Community is our ancestry and, in our blood,” I muttered seriously. He simply nodded, his eyes regarding me with his twinkly, celestial eyes, feeling his stare on the seat of my stomach.

Waiter came to get our order, giggling as I realised, we hadn’t been looking down at the menu because of our conversations, wincing at my unusual behaviour. Ricardo said some food options to the waiter, taking the time to observe him, the urge to sink into his presence was onerous. “For Kalina, can I get the shrimp tacos with mango salsa and fried plantains, beef patties and fried dumplings please,” he listed, looking at me “you want a drink? What drink do you want?”

“I’ll have a coke please,” I requested towards the waiter, Ricardo repeated the drink order to the waiter and ending it with a thank you. Both of us shared a smile, falling back into our conversations, “what are your dreams, Ricardo?” I asked, wanting to know everything about him.

“I want people to listen to my music, being an artist, a musician is all I know, only thing I want to do. I want to buy a nicer home for my family, to leave my neighbourhood and give my little sister a life I didn’t have,” he responded solemnly, his eyes avoided me, his hands played with the napkins on the table.

“That’s a nice dream,” I simply said, hating the logical side of me, who understood why he didn’t want me. Nonetheless my heart tugged at my chest, the sensation not lessened it’s clenching on my heart at the thought of him not wanting me. He had a face of conflict when his eyes were on me.

“Not everyone is fortunate to be born rich and with money, most of us have to work for it and sometimes we don’t even get much.”

“My father lived in a two-bedroom house with his parents in Bangladesh, my mother married him, and he came to United Kingdom with nothing. My mother grew up in one house with three other families in Birmingham. She didn’t finish her education, she stopped after secondary school, she had my eldest brother after a year of marriage and all followed through, I’m the youngest in my family. Most of my siblings are spread out, my eldest brother still lives in London, he already has a life there, so he didn’t come with us, my second eldest brother is currently in Tokyo pursuing engineering, and my sisters are mostly working so basically, I’m like an only child. My father worked two jobs whilst getting his degree in business and economics, he went into real estate, tearing down redundant businesses and put them together and sold them at a higher price to companies to invest in. He worked for a company that are located in London, New York and Singapore, he had worked most of his life to get here so, I understand Ricardo. You’ll get there, you’ll achieve all things you want, okay?” I said confident in his ability, he blew me away the first time I saw him perform, he has enough passion and fire to get what he wants, throughout the conversation. A soft hum streamed tenderly to my heart, the acceptance of him not wanting me whirred, making peace with it.

Ricardo

I watched her with wonder and confusion, how did she accept it so easily? Waiting for her to switch up on me. But as I study her sweet, sweet face, I know her words were as real as her aura. I didn’t know why I had chosen to sit beside her in class, something heavy has been wearing my body down from the moment I had woken up, I couldn’t shake it and then I walked towards her as if it was meant to be. Not expecting the excitement, I would feel of sharing a space with her. Every conversation tugged me to her like a hypnotising bell ringing and the only direction to go from here was forward, towards her, I didn’t want her to leave. Maybe it was selfish of me to ask her to hang out with me when I didn’t want anything happening between us but, I couldn’t help it as if I had no control of my heart and mind.

Watching her honest eyes paired with a mouth filled with understanding and truth, I felt compelled to think about her and me in the future, the visions coming to life and rushing through me, driving the emotions I felt for her. Her smile on my face, viewed me with pride and adoration as she watched me on the stage, seeing her with my family, spoiling my little sister, having a loving relationship with my mother, her coming to the studios to see me, her eyes on me when I’m recording on the booth, the smile on my face getting bigger as I spot her with my friends. I imagined her and I alone in our own home, she was wearing my clothes, laying back in our bed and laughing, her ear on my heart as I sing to her. Living life with her, creating life with her and until we’re grey and old. I could see it as I sit opposite her, her smile gentle on me, her eyes caressing my face and her chest going up and down evenly with her steady breath. What do I feel for you? I wondered to myself, imprinting her face on my mind, to my memory. The way her eyes see me, her mouth called out my name, her body relaxed and at ease around me, the way I feel being around her, “have you explored New York yet?” I asked her when we finished eating, paying for both of us which she protested against and gave me a stink face, opening up her own purse and pushing twenty-five dollars to my face, kept talking about paying me back and not accepting it. There will be a day where I can buy her all the things she wants, but now I could only afford to pay for her food when she’s with me, and that is exactly what I’m going to do.

“I’ve been to Chinatown, Greenwich Village, east Harlem, through the Brooklyn Bridge and Jackson Heights, Queens,” she said, our arms touching from time to time when we strolled down the sidewalk.

“Okay, I have an idea of where I am going to be taking you,” I said.

“Where are you taking me?” she returned.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find out when you see it but for now, it is a surprise,” satisfied with her pouted mouth, and scrunched up face, making me laugh as a result.

Her voice released a gasp, her eyes widened, her mouth shaped like an ‘o’, looking back at me in shock. “Ricardo,” she whispered, liking the way she said my name, the gentleness of her soft voice saying my name was addictive. “I heard of this place, they say you can see the whole of Manhattan at the top of the building, is that where we are going?” She squealed, enjoying her goofy and loopy excitement, it made her even more cute, finding it hard to grasp the overflowing emotions that are surfacing because of her.

“Yes,” I said, too distracted by her enthusiastic facial expressions, stepping into the building. I guided her to the elevator, tapping the button of the elevator, taking us to the floor that will show us the city view. “I would come here as often as I can, or I’ll sit on the Brooklyn Heights promenade, the views of the skyscrapers make me feel infinite, extraordinary as if I mattered, as if I am valued and needed in this world,” I lightly muttered, finding myself relaxing in her presence.

“I felt that way when me and my parents drove through the Brooklyn Bridge, the sight of Manhattan made me feel as if I’m bigger than life,” she murmured, waiting for the elevator to reach our floor. The ding indicated that we are here, waiting for her to go first, I followed after her, slowly observing and assessing her facial expressions and body.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, her breath coming out shorter, her body still as she watched the view, captivated by her form, finding it hard to keep my eyes off of her, her aura and being leaving me dazed, sweeping me closer to her. The sun was out, shining radiantly in the sky, overseeing the city but I watched her face, my heart clamped as the sun glistened graciously and delicately over her skin, her brown complexion festooning a golden hue, flattering her already natural beauty. I can’t have you now, I can’t do it, I don’t deserve it, Ricardo can’t want Kalina, I’m not worthy of her, and yet it didn’t stop me from stepping into her space. I returned her confused gaze with my heated one, reaching for her hand, feeling the soft skin of her fingers, curious if all of her felt this way. I caressed the arch of her pinkie finger, and then intertwined her fingers with mine, welding our fingers together and making us become one, her fingers fitted smoothly with mine. Her breath flittered over my face, taking in this moment, embracing her innate reaction to my proximity, of her fingers stroking mine, of her looking down at our joined fingers and looking back up, her mouth giving me her sweet, sweet smile.

I’m excited to see where this story goes. I hope you liked it if you read it and I hope to see you soon. Kind Regards, Konijja

Chapter One

Blog, Creative Writing

The lights were everywhere, flashes from the camera were blinding, gnawing at my face, “we’re close,” Micah said. He grasped my arm firmly with his hand, holding my body close. I leaned my head down, the long strands of hair cocooned my face, keeping my face hidden from the greedy, seedy cameras.

“I hate this,” I whispered already wanting out of this. I exhaled a breath once we’ve reached inside the hotel, calmness cascading through me. The anxiousness slowly seeped away, surrounded by throngs of people speaking loudly, huddling in circles with people they know. I looked around, staring blankly at the unfamiliarity, the agitation creeping up as I stare around me to be enveloped amongst strangers. “I hate this,” I repeated.

“I know you do. This is for the greater good. Once you’re not needed, once we have shown our appearance we’ll be gone, okay?” Micah said.

“Yes please,” I returned. For the first time, a small smile shaped my face since I showed up to this event. My skin crawled at the fake glamour, happiness, love, this farce game deluding us that we’re doing the greater good, that we’re part of something extraordinary, when we’re just money makers to them. Nothing is real about this world because everyone is dealing with their own form of darkness. The smiles revealed nothing but fakery, hidden behind their expensive clothes, jewellery and pinned up hairdos, shaping up a face of their suffering and toxicity.

“Come on, let’s find our seats,” he urged. He lightly pushed me forward, guiding my body with his hand on the small of my back to our table. I looked straight ahead, ignoring the greetings from strangers passing by, dismissing their offensiveness of being ignored. Nobody cares about your little feelings being hurt, why should I care when nobody cares about me? It takes two to tango, baby. “It’s no harm to say hello and how are you, you know. It doesn’t indicate any interest, nor does it open the idea of a friendship or acquaintance. I think they don’t bite,” Micah whispered as he pulled my chair out, waiting for me to be seated until he took his seat beside me in the circular table.

“It’s all fake. Doesn’t mean anything,” I let out. “Not like I see them on a regular basis, it’s small talk. Who likes small talk please? They don’t really care Micah.”

“Were you always such a pessimist, how are we friends?” he laughed.

“Because you love me,” I countered.

“And because you love me too,” he quipped, his eyes light and humorous, his expression warm and kind.

“Yeah, I do,” I shrugged, releasing a second smile of the evening.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, it is lovely to see all of you. Welcome to the Golden Gala event, thank you so much for taking the time to attend it. In this event, we raise money annually towards a charity that resonates with us. This year it is raising money for orphaned children who are left without a family. We will donate money to an orphanage that we believe truly serves in the right interest of the children and the children only. We will donate to Haven Orphanage. I would like to acknowledge the dedication and hard work of our talented volunteers, committees, and team, this event wouldn’t have been possible without them.” The audience erupted in cheers and claps, displaying thankfulness towards them. Mr. Malcome smiled and relieved a laugh in response, slowly indicating to the audience to be quiet so he could continue with his introductory speech. “Thank you again for attending the Golden Gala of 2020. I am certain you will be glad you did. Now, I will welcome the stage to Mrs. Simone Montgomery, the founder of Haven Orphanage.” The servers were working swiftly as they placed down the food and drinks on the tables, asking me if I needed anything, I responded with a ‘no’ and ‘thank you.’ Playing with my food as the hunger was non-existent. Micah openly helped himself to my food, shrugging his shoulders when I stared at him with a questionable look.

“We shouldn’t be wasting food,” he simply commented. Pushing my plate towards him, grateful that he has a big appetite to eat for two. I pushed my chair backwards, I get out of the hall, the toxicity within the atmosphere was too heavy on my chest, walking up the flights of stairs towards the rooftop, the more I walked up, the quieter the space between me and the loud people drowned out. Silence. I enjoyed silence, it’s simple, and quiet. There is only me and my company in silence, there is no other second person, chaos, ache, or complications. There is only me, me and aloneness is simple, easy, and painless. I let out a breath when I found it was only me in the rooftop, relieved to find it empty. I watched the burning lights illuminating brightly from the buildings as they floated with each other. The sky-scraping buildings varying in shapes, widths, lengths, creating infinity with the buildings which were luminescent and contrasted vividly from the dark sky.

Leaves that had fallen on the floor from the chilled breeze were crunching, the footsteps weren’t heavy nor light, rather sounded calculated and hesitant. Turning my head to the sound, to see a person, the figure stayed behind the shadow, but I knew from the build and form it was a male. “Who is it?” I let out, portraying a hint of annoyance, he never responded. The vellicate of my impatience was rising higher, more annoyed than unnerved, “do you understand English? I said who is it and what are you doing here?” I pressed. I kept my gaze on the figure that was hiding behind a dark shadow of the towering plants and flowers.

“It’s me,” he said, he came out of the bleak shadows. I recognised the voice even after years of not seeing him. My heart constricted against my chest and tears welled up in my eyes within seconds of seeing his face. The potty words disappeared and fallen short from my mouth, the silence between us was deafening. Heaviness of my sorrows pushed against my body, masking the intense sadness and devastation with my anger.

“What are you doing here? Why are you here?”

“I was invited to come here I didn’t know that you were here until I saw you come in. You’ve been avoiding me for years, I have been looking for you, but I couldn’t, until now. I want to talk to you. How are you?” he began as if we could continue like the old times.

“Fine, you don’t need to worry about me. There is no need to want to talk to me, there is no reason to talk. If you didn’t want to talk then, you don’t need to talk now. It’s okay, I’m okay, you seem okay, and that is great,” I expressed with sarcasm, trying to keep the sadness at bay but seeing his face, hearing his voice, being near him after so many years that passed, I didn’t know if I could control the emotions searing inside of me.

“I’m not okay, Kalina, I think about you since that day, I regret it every day and I’m sorry for everything.”

“You shouldn’t lie, Ricardo. Don’t you know lying is a sin? I should have known better, but I didn’t. I don’t want you here, it is what is it, and you’re forgiven, you can leave now,” I said, my heart hurt from all of this, my breath became shorter as the familiar anxiety arose beneath my skin.

“Come on, don’t be like that, what I said all those years ago was the truth, it is still the truth now. I have never lied to you, believe me, Kalina.”

“How dare you?” I started, tired of being civil, of being patient. The top of the sinus tickled as the tears have started to prickle my eyes, blurring my vision.

“Kalina, stop it. Stop trying to avoid me, please. I don’t want to run from this anymore, I don’t want to run away from you anymore, don’t run away from me.”

“Yes, yes, I can, and I will run away from you because I can, I want to, I need to. You’re not safe for me or my heart. You hurt me, you hurt me and you knew what you did would hurt me.”

“I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I’m tired and I don’t want to run away from you anymore. I want you to talk to me.”

“Nothing to talk about here. What is done is done, I didn’t need you to protect me, I wanted your honesty and your truth. I put so much into you I didn’t have anything for myself at the end. You’ve hurt me, you knew I was hurting, and you did it anyways. Get away, go away from here,” my voice got higher with each octave, the relentless tears streamed down my face, my heart burning and squeezing, the pain becoming unbearable. Needing him out of here so he doesn’t see my resolve shatter “go away, get out of here,” I shouted into abyss, nobody here to save me from myself, from him. Beating at his chest, going crazy, wanting him to see me crazy to drive him away. Him being here opened my heart wide open, the pain fresh and my mind travelling back to time of me and him. Pounding my shaped fists against his chest “get out, I don’t want you here. You hurt me,” I cried.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, hurting you hurt me too. I’m so sorry,” he chanted, his hands covered my fisted hands, stopping their attacks on his chest.

“Get out of here,” I whispered. “You’re dangerous,” the tears streamed down my cheeks, through my neck, and wetting my chest. Frantic footsteps and harsh breath appeared in front of me. The intensity of my emotions consumed me, shaking me to the core. A devastated gasp released from my lips as the moment sunk in, my body dropped to the floor, Micah caught my body before it collapsed, the shrill cries turning into silent hiccups and wheezing. “Tell him to get away, Micah. Tell him to go away,” Micah sighed, his hands wrapped around me, whispering consoling words of validation and hope.

“Go on Ricardo,” Micah said quietly.

“I’m sorry Kalina, I’m sorry for everything,” he ended, his footsteps pelted the ground, echoing in my ears as he faded away into the darkness.

If you see this, I assume you have come to the end of the chapter. This is a new story, inspired by heavy feelings and an overactive mind. It is a longer version of a short story I had created called Celestial Light, and it felt like the right time to give depth and substance to the short story. Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it. This is one of many drafts and hope to see you again. Regards, Konijja.

Talking to the Moon.

Blog, Story

The clouds cocooned the moon, the moon was lustrous like a fluorescent light illuminating against the darkness. Stars sprinkled amongst the sky, flickering their celestial galaxies. The ocean was luminescent from the burning glow of the moonlight. The ocean created waves as they hit the shore, the coolness washing over my sand pillowed feet. My heart full, my soul sound, enveloped within Earth’s nature. The crisp air clinched onto my skin, the waves moving in sync with the gentle gust of the wind. The silence comforting, the tranquil sounds of crashing waves stirred my soul, feeling lightheaded and hazy, from the peace of my heaven.

I brought my knees against my chest, wrapped my arms around my body with the wind blowing my hair away from my face. A small smile danced around my lips, gazing up at the moon, and the moon emitted brightly away from the clouds, whispering sweet sweet gratitudes to the moon and the celestial orbs. “Nobody really knows what it is yet, we do feel it. We don’t know what it means yet, we do seek it. We crave it. When we have it in front of us, we don’t see it. We yearn for love, regretting the missed opportunities and fearful for the future potentials. Unclear about what the future holds; hoping, wishing and wanting” I say absent-mindedly, the clouds circled the moon. The glow intensified almost as if my words were being heard. “We don’t know what love is still, we yearn it. The pangs of longing sharpening within the chambers of the heart. I miss him. He isn’t listening. Can you see him? The thoughts of him filling my head. The stars can see him too huh? We don’t know what love is yet, we yearn for it. Creating imaginations in our heads and being disappointed by our delusions. He doesn’t want me, wants me to wait for him.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. I looked up at the one star that is shimmering deeply than the others.

The ocean ricocheted in rhythm with the stinging sensation unfurling within my chest. “Waiting. The highs of your hopes and lows of your dreadful thoughts of insecurities and uncertainties. You are the sacrificial lamb, who has to wait until it is convenient for them to want you. Waiting is like the tones of sadness prolonging, not knowing when the next storm surges. I miss him, he isn’t listening. Can you see him?” I questioned quietly, my nose tickling from the cold. “Waiting for someone is like willingly pausing your life, at an impasse. Waiting for them to come back and press play for your life to resume again, from when they were in your life. It’s not his fault, I suppose. I have chosen to wait because these hopeless feelings never falter. Feelings another crazy notion” I murmured, my voice muffled from the notes of the fierce ocean. “Feelings… feelings… the unfamiliar sensations trickling through your veins, pulsing once it reaches your heart. The vessels of the heart pumping, thrashing against your chest and blooms. Coming alive once your eyes reach for the person that it desires. Galaxies intertwining and rejoicing from your reunion. Feelings are simple, delicate human experiences however, they can be paralysing and complicating when your being isn’t nourished. The foreign vibrations making you feel unhinged, crazy. The Universe laughing at our despair but, soothes us with unconditional kindness of our blessings that are yet to come,” I ended. My fingers played with the sand. The moon arose higher, the gleaming light glistened. The chaos was quiet as the being savoured Earth’s gifts. “I miss him,” I said, lightly. One lone tear travelled down my face, fading away into the sand. Staying still as the breeze tenderly touched my skin. My eyes closed, and body lax; a deep presence within me. Inviting his energy, a soul presence that never left my heart, the comfort and security enwreathed my body, gripping my heart. The moon hidden in behind the clouds, that one flickering star gone. The fallen, shooting star.

“He is listening,” whispered the Universe.

Solitude is Your Power

Blog, Love

Since young, we knew about love. We see the love between our parents, have love for our siblings, family and friends. To some we love by being dreamers, for our passions, and for our Planet Earth. We are taught about love. We see love. We know of love and yet, we are not taught about self-love. The power and beauty love holds when we make space for ourselves. When we fill our cup and appreciate our own company. Relationships and romanticism are notions that have influenced our social perceptions since we were young. We have created an identity for ourselves when we are in romatic relationships, placing our values in whether or not we’re in a relationship, especially with the pressure of being a woman. As women, we are taught that we are valued, we have a place in this society when we are in a relationship, when we are taken by a man.

Not many are comfortable with being alone. Many of us are scared of being alone, of living our lives alone. Obsessing over the psychological time, think that we are running out of time, and don’t have the time to fall in love or be in a relationship. When these are simply social constructs and have no significant value. Why do we put a time stamp when it comes to finding love? Why are we allowing ourselves to be pressured into finding love? Why do we not celebrate being single? Why is there such unease in being alone?

The power of self-love is being able to embrace aloneness. There’s power in knowing yourself, having a relationship with yourself and being comfortable in your being. The power of self-love is when you’re able to pick yourself up when nobody sees. The power of self-love is knowing your worth and not tolerating men who don’t know how to treasure you nor love you. The power of aloneness is being self-sufficient, independent, and sure of yourself, knowing that you can rely on yourself in the lowest of times. You are able to be friends with your soul and nourish your soul. So, when your lover comes into your life, they’ll flourish your being, your energy and protect it, love will be extraordinary.

The beauty of love is when you and your lover find each other, entering each other’s life the way they’re supposed to. Your love will come, and it’ll be everything you’ve wished for. Patience truly is a virtue.

Love is the source of life, love will come to you in the most unexpected ways. That being said, for the sake of desiring a relationship, for love don’t allow anyone to be in your space. Your energy is valuable. Not everyone can care for it and reciprocate it. You’ll just end up hurting yourself in the process of desiring a relationship, it’s not worth it. There is innumerable amount of power in self-discovery, self-awareness and self-reflection. There is power in healing, in enjoying your own company, your being, feeling comfortable being alone and being at peace with yourself. That is the true beauty of oneness. Being whole and complete with yourself. Being able to remain one with yourself. That is your power, being one with life.

Hues of Yearning

Blog, poetry

Stagnant. Stuck. Lost.

The sharp tinges of pain echoing inside the hollow canvases of my heart.

“I miss you” I whisper into the night sky.

The moon illuminating luminously against the dark, starry sky. Gazing up at the flickering, twinkling celestial orbs.

“I miss you” I murmur into nothingness, the burning sensation within the heart transforming into flames.

The hues of longing still, motionless. Reaching into every corner of my being. Consuming.

Moments of happiness burrowing the deep-rooted yearning.

The hues of longing clawing at my inflamed heart, scratching at the heart to relieve the pain.

Lips quivering, nose tickling as tears fall, dampening the skin. Unleashing the dam.

The blazing, raging ache gripping my soul.

“I miss you” I breathe into the void. The syllables falling from my lips as my voice breaks.

The yearning pinching my heart, clutching my throat.

“He isn’t listening” I utter. The shrapnel exploding into the abyss of my soul.

Stagnant. Stuck. Lost.

Breaking Generational Curses

Blog, Self

Growing up I always felt alienated from the Bangladeshi community. Not understanding why I felt this way, not comprehending why I couldn’t connect with family members, why I didn’t have mutual interests with my cousins. Not knowing why I couldn’t relate to the norms and traditions of my culture that never made sense to me.

I was that introverted, socially awkward girl who would sit quietly in a corner of the room, surrounded by people but not speak, just observing. Listening to older generations talking to each other, gossiping about each other. Throwing ‘harmless’ jokes at each other, commenting on other people “when are they getting married?” “She’s of age now.” When are you going to have children?” And if you go against the norm you’re instantly ostracised, exiled. Wincing to everything they’d say, never aligning with the ways they were, their beliefs, and values. It was never about belonging, it was the realisation that my life’s meaning, my purpose was different. It was to break the restrictive norms and traditions for future generations. It was to break the norms that society held of girls, of women. It was to heal the generations to come, it was to break the generational traumas and values that had no significant values. My purpose wasn’t going through the traditional route.

Transitioning into an adult, seeing the unspoken traumas, generational unhealed sadness that I realised the norms, ideations that existed never had an essential purpose. It simply confined the people, immobilised us to mind-ego and never seeing the light, the beauty of life. It isn’t just about the traditional route of going to university and graduating, nor about getting married by 25 and having children. It’s the gaps that reside in those spaces of conforming to these concepts. It’s the regret of not doing more in life, not knowing what your purpose is and why you’re here. It’s the pain, suffering they have of blindly following man-made societal norms and projecting the traumas that were created onto the future generations, onto the children. The trauma and suffering repeating like a cycle.

It never was about connecting with my community because that meant I affiliated with the societal norms that were created. It is about breaking the generational curses that controlled, imprisoned them because they never saw an extraordinary life. They simply saw the life of survival. The need to survive. It is my purpose to crack open, and break the generational curses, so the future generations don’t have to worry about breaking norms that limited them.

Intimacy

Blog, poetry

Streaming, seeping, ever flowing energy between two lovers.

My soul wanting to devour his mystical being.

His loving aura, his love for me addictive, devoted to only him.

His body close to mine, encasing me, fire burning inside for him.

Wanting him to take all of me, wanting to give him all of me.

Because that is what he has made me, a crazy lover.

His intimacy is my constant yearning.

My soul light and free.

His love florets my heart.

Thanking the Universe for giving him to me.

Thanking the Universe for giving me unconditional love in him.

Our souls burning together, creating a passionate, blazing inferno.

My love for him pure, limitless, and transcendental.

Prologue

Blog, Creative Writing

The rhythm of the ocean swayed gently into the shore. The soft, tender breeze caressed my face. The cool wind quietly swallowed my loud mind. My feet pillowed the smooth sand, the water mirroring my pained reflection. My eyes magnified the troubled soul that wanted to let out the cries, wanting to be heard, wanting to be felt.

I dreamt of living near the ocean, to live in a place where I could be in solitude, living in the silence and being surrounded by Earth’s nature. For wishing that the first thing I wake up to is the sight of the ocean, and the last vision that my eyes see before entering a dreamless state is the sight of the ocean.

I walked back towards my home. The well-lit up lanterns on both of the pillars on my front porch provided a dimly lit glow, walking up the steps and opening the door to be welcomed with sweet heaven. Living alone had provided me with safety I have never felt, the comfort I seek, in not relying on anybody but myself. Looking at the place that I have created, the spacious opening. The airy space of this house had me hooked and captivated by its beauty, for the crisp sounds of the ocean echoing into my home, an instant lull of peace. My safe haven, my healer. Breathing in and exhaling, living within the atmosphere of Earth’s nature, the cleanliness of the cooling air, the autumn breeze giving me goosebumps, the little hairs on my arms standing up. Gazing at the open space of the ground floor. The bright shades of whites and greys opened the house, the simplicity of my home allowing my mind to breathe, bringing harmony to my soul and spirit. Walking down the hallway, up the stairs, through the expansive hallway with walls that are filled with my favourite people, decorated with personal art, and down the corridor to my bedroom. The glass interior allowed the first glance to be the picturesque, serene view of the water that the night sky accompanies. The full moon was a hint of pink leaving me breathless at the sheer beauty of the visionary sight, the lunar moon is a sight to behold as I gaze at the glimpses of differing shades of grey. The gleaming, shimmering stars illuminating the darkness, beautifying the sky with its glistening celestial galaxies. Pure heaven.

I laid on the bed, pulling the duvet over my body, bringing myself in a straight position lying on my back, I dread the moment when sleep should take over me. The memories, thoughts, the emotions that want attention, wanting to surface into my consciousness overpowering me. I dread the moments of nightfall. The tides of the ocean lulling me into drowsiness.

“There is peace in acceptance” I whisper

“I am not identified with pain” I utter.

“My suffering does not make me who I am” I affirm.

“I am okay” I speak.

Yet, the tears begin to roll down my cheeks into my hairline, the flow of tears rushing down my face. Turned to my sides, with my knees up and a hunched back, squeezing the side of my pillow into the shape of a fist. The hot tears continuously streamed down my face, my body shaking along with the waves of the heaving tears, wheezing until I become breathless with sore skin. It has always been like this, for years the void in my soul getting heavier, deepening into my being disappearing into an abyss, into emptiness. Overcome with sleep, my eyes begin to close, as sleep takes over me, silencing me into a subconscious trance. Before swimming into unconsciousness, “Save me.” I murmur, unknowingly mumbling the words that have shifted my whole goddamn world.

(Thank you for reading. This is a prologue for a passion project. Hope you have enjoyed what is written so far. Much Love, Konijja)

Silence (My Healer)

Blog, Creative Writing

Drip. Drop. Goes the sound of the water. Drips of water that left the hot tap leaving the sink disappearing down the drain. The silence. The silence that surrounds me, the silence that comforts me, silence is within everything. Every living thing, in everything that I do. Silence after I breathe, silence after each footstep. Silence after the madness, pain. Silence in every laughter, every shout of joy. Silence when I wake up, and when I fall asleep. Silence after gushes of wind moving through my body, silence surrounds me. Silence after the intense conversation and nothing to say. What comes after the noise is the silence. Silence lives within.

Every tears, cries ending in silence, Every laughter that I have shared ending in silence, every breath that I exhaled ending in silence. Every voice ending in silence, the noise quietening and silence embracing me. The sharp pain within my chest evolving into nothingness, ending and transforming into silence, into calmness. Into tranquility.

The distant lull of the water hitting the shore, each wave flowing in the rhythm of the gentle, swaying trees with the pelting rain. Every stream of water, every sway of the leaves in trees ending in silence.

Looking out the window, gazing at my view. The moonlight illuminating against the now luminiscent ocean. The sound of the tender waves of the ocean in level with Earth, the serene flow of swooning trees, the gentle and light breeze. Peace. The twinkling stars gleaming within the sky, along the moon igniting, brightening the sky. Radiating the wonderful perfection of this magnificent Universe. My healer.

Pain does not have to be something I have to be accustomed with. Pain is fleeting and emotions move, evolve and shift into abyss. Just lke the wax holding onto the fragrance of jasmine until it cannot anymore. Just like when the rain stops, the rainbow reveals its presence accompanied with the sun. Just like agony, suffering transforming into love and peace and pain turning into joy, into happiness.

I can become one.

“I am okay. I am living. I am breathing” I chant to myself.

Walking towards my bedside, lighting up the candle. The gradual, delicate scent of jasmine oozing from its wax. The sweetness of jasmine streaming into the darkest corners of my room. Warm, toasty blanket of the heavenly scent surrounding me. Refreshing and tingling my senses with its divine aura of healing energies and sensuality.

The rush of emotions pouring over me, the intense sharpness against my chest, reaching into my throat. Intensifying, inflaming within. The tingling sensations writhing against my eyes, the watery substance flowing down my cheeks in freefall. “I am okay, I am alive, I am breathing” I chant to myself, tasting the saltiness of my tears. “I miss him” I weakly whisper in admission, speaking into nothingness. Into silence. The ocean crashing against the shore in sync with me, the rain welting down, fading into the hollowness of the ocean. Inhaling the fragmatic aroma of jasmine, the pleasant scent that soothes, silencing the tones of sadness. Quietly calming my soul and body into a dreamless state of peace. Into silence.