Sara Azzouzi

Sara Azzouzi

Drizzle of My Senses

What if I put an end to it? Am I going to be at ease and find peace?

Putting on my shield, holding on tight to my wrecked beliefs, struggling to stand still at the first line as a strong warrior but I know deep down that I have no more power to set up the fire. Telling myself I am alright, and everything is going to be fine with hope and courage, your wild spirit will set you free and eventually will break all the chains that have once held you back. But who is to blame? I am not lost to be found, definitely not perplexed in an existential crisis to guide myself to the light. I am trying my best to keep my sanity inside the howling madness like an unseen epidemic. It is not a war to decide that there is a win or loss and it should not be. I suddenly start to question what is wrong with me but there is no one to respond.

Surviving, shrinking all the beautiful astounding and even dark painful senses to one; to survive. I am not letting myself be the third wheel of how I lead my life; I can‘t deny my fear, nor can I hide the foggy vision that disables from seeing my way towards clarity, however among the things I am certain of is the teeming yearnings to live a better life. Admiring the cracks of the wounds, forbearing the stings that once were the reasons for shedding unreturned unforgiveable tears.

I find myself swinging between the heat of desert and the shivering icy cold that somehow finds its balance and coexists inside me, spinning around the unstoppable cycle of time. The starting point of every human being is in the cradle, learning how to be the man of tomorrow and eventually fading away as an old fellow; holding the wisdom that once gathered throughout a lifetime in the capsule of the missing, messy, unarranged details that entail much of the wrinkles drawn around old men‘s eyes.

Living a life where I am standing for the norms that I have once set for myself. Surprised by the unexpected bents that were the reason for being the person I am today, differently judged if I was directed by the stream of what the ancestors. How can a human of this offspring remain tolerant and forgivable in this filthy torturing world?

Like a fish out the sea, I struggle. No, in fact I am adapting my sensations, my soul, my mind. I am looking forward to be my own sculpture no matter how much it is thorny. Blind but I see colors, despair but I hope one day soon I will find my place in the perplexing labyrinthine of

what is so called for the common life or maybe for other slowly death. All the doors I knocked were slammed to my face. Building yourself from scratch as a girl, you either got to dream big, have a strong stamina and close your ears to the external and internal voices that try to put you down or you will just abide by the system and join the crowd.

But sometimes it just sounds that life goes as it should be. Ideas come and go as well as people, emotions and everything else. Nothing is everlasting. But somehow it is a relief that we are not chained to a one stagnant situation. Otherwise it would be a boring experience and eventually murdering oneself when all voices around me are yelling and no one tries to understand my standpoint. Taking a minimalist lifestyle and discovering myself, building one bit by bit and finding my freedom from clutter. The philosophy I tend to follow is to get rid of the excess stuff and enjoying life without that attachment forces by the family, society. I do not want to be tamed nor to put the blame on the other I just want to live freely with the closest ones who left suddenly but still remain in the heart.

The beauty of my dreams might not seem clear to the common but I am eager for a special glory. My pain drives me to death, captivating my sights to see the fine line between the wrong and right, the good and the bad. After dropping the last teardrop of these invisible sorrows, I finally find my joy with the love I carry in my chest.

A call in the middle of the night was a changing point for the loner life I took for granted once. A shelter that I turn to when the dark foggy nights lay on my heart; however, time has its revenge. It revolves around bitterness and sorrowful senses but eventually it passes by. since human being bases his life on adaptation.

Longing for his presence around me, his laughter and most importantly his look into me, the thrill to be together to hold me tightly, to hug me makes the love sickness seems somehow bearable. He became my guide in the dark nights, my clarity in the gloomy clouds and my shelter in the unrest up and downs. My simply made boat is rattling into the tide of the sea, facing my destiny to drown in the mid of nowhere, no one to grief no one to laugh, merely a blank emptiness that hollows the scene. I never believed that there will be a man to whom I will turn to when I feel that the whole world shuts down on my face. With A soft touch, he has melted the cold ice on my heart and healed all the bleedings from my unpleasant past. He took my hand and became my everything when no one dared to be near my zone. Waiting for a miracle threaded with gold and silk to collide two souls that only exist one is me and the other in my head.