The start is always difficult. The first step, the first move, the first word, the first everything. Rejecting, neglecting, losing, backing down, and declining are always the easier path to follow. Stay here? Or move? Develop and prosper? Or stay the same? This? Or that?
A cup is once full, half full, and then empty. Another cup is once full, half empty, and then fully empty. Different ways of thinking. Different points of view. Different opinions. Trying hard. Resisting, struggling, striving. Falling down then manning up.
Negativity, sadness, frowning, and depression will climb your back if you don’t fight. Man up and face it. Yell, shout or scream. Seize the moment, pause it then stop it. Think and analyze. Collect and test. Pick then STRIKE!
A Turkish coffee cup? Or cappuccino? Tea? Or Frappuccino? Cigarettes? Or shisha? Either? Neither? Or both? A paper and a pen and a picture. On a side there’s her, on the other there’s it. Homesick? Or sick of home? 4 days left and I am still confused. Stuck between yes and no.
Stuck between Gaza and a hard place. Stuck between what I want, and what they want. I want because I chose to. I want because it is my duty. The call of duty has been raised and everybody has answered, except me. I want because if I don’t, who would? On the other hand, they don’t because they fear losing me. Being over protective is horrible. They don’t want me to be captured, beaten up, interrogated. A hidden fear is the fear of losing me. Forever.
Thinking about it, I am suicidal when it comes to this. It’s mine! Who would defend it better? Who would move a finger? Thinking again, what if I am gone? What if my soul climbs up to heaven? Then they are all sad, my parents, my family, my friends and her. Sad for a while, then life goes on. I will remain as a memory. And my grave will be unvisited. Piles of dust and wilted flowers.
Bitter and sweet. Sometimes bitter, sometimes sweeter. Up and down, then stable. Black as coffee, white as milk. Blue as the sea, red as blood. Life. Sickness. And death.