Being Blind

Hey there folks!

How’ve you all been doing? I’m hoping good Ol’ Jan has been kind to you– or at least, not very mean.

I come to you with a rather debatable topic today– well, I don’t know if it’s universally so, I just know that I suddenly found it debatable and decided a Rant should solve the issue.

So today my phone pinged up with a text from one of my mates. Curious, I check it to see a narration of a short passage with a moral behind it. The message was something like:

A man married a beautiful lady. He loved everything about her, but as with most attractions, he was always awed by her unearthly beauty, and every time he’d look at her, he’d fall in love just a little bit more, entranced by her charm. So when one day, after he left on tour, his wife developed a sudden skin disease, she believed that with that cursed disease, no one would love her any more. 
On his way back from the tour, however, he met with an accident, and although his life was spared, his sight wasn’t. And so began their new chapter as a blind man and a woman with diminishing beauty. 
 The woman’s love for her husband didn’t waver once despite the hardships that came with caring for a blind man, but, slowly, her disease started taking away her beauty, leaving her a withering flower that kept losing her petals no matter how well you tended for it.
One day, though, she died. Her death brought him great sorrow; leaving the man in a grievous state so deep it almost endeavoured him whole.
He finished all her last rights and wanted to leave that town.
A man from behind called and said, ‘Now how will you be able to walk all alone? All these days your wife used to help you.’
He replied, ‘I am not blind. I was acting,  because if she came to know that I knew that she had skin disease, it would have pained her more than her disease. So I only acted blind. She was the love of my life; and I only wanted to keep her happy.’

The moral there is that sometimes, it is for the better to act blind or ignore someone’s short comings, just to keep them happy.

Whereas I do think that this is a very touching story of what love is and what sacrifices we have to make because we care, I do have a little to add there.

It’s true that highlighting someone’s problem would not make them happy, but ignoring them wouldn’t either. Maybe it works for some people; but definitely not all. I believe that when we care about someone, we embrace them as a whole– with their ups and downs, imperfections, insecurities, quirks and everything in between.

What you do when you care for someone is help them out, not ignore their problems or pretend they’re not there. Yes, some issues can’t be helped, like that lady’s skin disease, but that’s all the more reason to let her know that it’s not the glow of her complexion that makes her pretty, it’s everything else.

My point is, don’t try to be blind for her, but maybe show her that you’re the only person who sees what the whole world can’t: her inner beauty, strength and soul.

Close your eyes and open your heart, I assure you it’d be worth it.

 

Anyone agrees with me here?

 

Midnight Ranter

Mystery (Rhythmical Rant)

Life is a mystery;

One that I’ll never really fathom.

Yet I still study its history,

Forming thoughts to help me imagine.

 

Rules change,

And concepts never apply.

Try as you might– you’ll still be strange,

Try some more, but by a corner you’ll still cry.

 

Should we care—

About the things people say?

Fight it fair and square?

Or let their knives deform you like clay?

 

And who you are–

Upon what is that based?

On what they saw described in your star?

Or everything else you once faced?

 

But then,

Hasn’t the past already departed?

Why look into it again,

When it’s the thing I’ve long since parted?

 

Why judge me on the first glance,

When it’s only what you just saw?

I’ve still so much to enhance,

And it’s my life— it’s what I’ll draw.

 

And yet,

We care about reputation.

When it’s a sad, sad threat,

Looming over every single nation.

Well yes,

It’s their word against yours—

Indeed, a fine game of chess,

But who is it to settle the scores?

 

Now I think I’ve strayed a bit far,

So let’s get back to the subject.

I’ll talk about the scar,

And in that, I’ll be direct.

 

People judge,

People hurt.

They’ll walk round and trudge,

Not caring about what they blurt.

 

So now it’s only up to you,

To give them what they need.

Hand over the glue,

And tell them we’re all a broken breed.

 

No one’s perfect,

But that’s the way it should be.

In everyone lies a bit of a wreck,

Mostly hidden under the sea.

 

And yes: life’s still to me unknown,

But that’s one down and a million more to go.

With that one issue finally blown,

I guess I’ll just have to take it slow,

And believe that truths will one day rise and glow.

 

 

Hullo!

What did you think of my rather rhythmical rant? Enjoyed it? Should I make rhyming rants a thing or just get back to bulky paragraphs? Which part did you relate to the most? The bit about the glue and the one about the sea are my personal favourites, to be honest. 

Everything aside, I hope you all have a lovely day and I look forward to your feedbacks~

–Midnight Ranter (aka Ayaka)

The Screwdriver

Once, I was looking for this singular screwdriver and I couldn’t find it anywhere I looked. And mind, I rummaged through everything and every drawer to get it; but sadly resurfaced empty-handed.

My father, bless him, sees me in my disarrayed state and asks what I was looking for. When I told him, he asks me, ‘What colour is it?’

And I answer him and tell him it’s yellow.

He smiles-grins a little, looks me in the eye like he knows some secret I haven’t a clue on, and tells me that there was also a purple one, which was right under my nose and I couldn’t see it even though I searched that place at least three times.

The moral is: sometimes you’re looking for something in this distinct shape and never find it; but once you realise that the shape could change, you may as well find it right in front of you, hidden (or not so hidden) in plain sight, with you not having the least idea on. You just had your sights on something too distinct.

The end you’re looking for may not be there, but that doesn’t mean that there is no end. It just means that there’s a different shape and colour to it.

So open up your mind more as I have learnt to open mine.

Signed,

Midnight Ranter (aka Ayaka)

Broken Heart 

A girl texted a guy once. Mid-chat, she asked him whether he had to go or not, and when he told her that he was just about to excuse himself, she told him she had thought so, putting in the broken heart emoji. She wished him good luck with whatever matters he had at hand and before he went, he asked her what the broken heart stood for. She replied saying that it stood for a broken heart. Simple. It stood for a broken heart; because it’s always sad when you have to say goodbye to someone, even online.

You know what he did?

He never saw the message. And that’s why it was broken heart. Because even though with every goodbye comes a new hello, with him, there is never really anything for certain. It’s always a game of guessing, wondering, pondering and inquiring. There’s never a closure.

And that was why it was a broken heart.

Heya! 

This is a short, short piece that just crept up on me out of nowhere. Tell me your thoughts on it, though; I’d love to know whether or not you felt anything for the girl! 

Signed, 

Midnight Ranter (aka Ayaka) 

Ayaka in Wonderland (beware: majorly lengthy post)

Wonderland is supposed to be this fantasy Underland with peculiar characters and creatures.

 

Well, my Wonderland consisted of a fantasy I once drew in my head and that I suddenly saw painted in the real world. What’s that fantasy, you ask? Book kiosks, I answer.

 

Now lets backtrack a bit. My family and I decided that for the summer holidays this year around, we were to visit Egypt (yes, the place with the Pyramids and Pharaohs– cool place, people). The trip was rather busy and interesting; but being the bibliophile that I am, I set out to search for books there too. My first stop was this popular bookshop called Alf Bookstore (Alf is the first letter in the Arabic alphabet– don’t know what that has to do with books).

I went in and was glad to find a nook of good YA books as, apparently, the people there mostly just read Arabic books, so English stuff are rather scarce. Anyhow, the book that got my interest was The Martian. I’d heard good things about it and wanted to check it out; besides, it was the only book that I could get from there, really. Anyhow, I flip the book to check out the price, and God, it was for 160 Egyptian Pounds (13 point something pounds). In Egyptian standards, that’s not just high, it’s skyrocketing high. So my father advised that I let go of the book for now until I find another bookshop and compare prices.

 

Next stop: Shorouk Bookshop (Sunrise Bookshop. Weird names, I swear). Long story short, it’s the same scenario, with the same prices.

 

Now let me tell you, I was on the brink of giving up; thinking that I’d just get my books from the UK and that’s that. But nope. There was this glimmer of hope that shone through, known as Soor El-Azbakeya (Azbekeya Book Market; I don’t even know what to do with these names). What’s that, you ask? It’s a market, I answer. But for books, not veggies.

 

I don’t recall seeing anything like it before. It’s basically a street brimmed to every nook with books stands and kiosks and mini shops. Books everywhere. From the walls to the chairs to the grounds to, at some point, even rocks (they used it as tables, I think). To a book nerd like yours truly, this was fantasy coming true. My very own Wonderland.

 

But wait right there, it’s not heaven just yet. Why?

Because most of the books were bloody Arabic books! And the ones that weren’t academic books or classics, were books that I’ve already read *facepalm*.

 

At that point, I assure you, I was completely out of hope– especially so, considering the fact that I didn’t bring any books with me for the holidays, so I was a bit bummed about the whole ordeal. Standing there, basked under Egypt’s mighty sun (no wonder the Pharaohs were mostly half naked), you could say that any enthusiasm I had had just about evaporated.

 

But then I pass by it. It. The shop that not only answered my prayers, but also brightened up the rest of my holiday. It was called The Book Corner, I think (hard remembering everything in the heat).

 

I stroll in, brushing all the glossy covers under my fingertips, and skimming through the stands with my eyes. I saw books I’ve read, one’s I hadn’t, others I never even knew existed and all that was just too much for my bibliophilic self.

 

I ended up hoarding six books that I have wanted for quite a while but couldn’t make time for them:

-Fangirl

-Landline

-The Perks of being a Wallflower

-Beautiful Disaster

-A Beautiful Wedding

-We Were Liars.

 

And.. guess the price of all 6?

 

160 Egyptian Pounds. -_-

 

Anyhow, that was my little bookish adventure over the summer. I’d want to wish all those who started school a great year (I’m homeschooled) and I know I’ve been incognito lately but that’s because we moved houses and I lost my phone and was rendered without Internet access for quite the while. I’m back now though and I’ve truly missed this place.

 

Lots of love,

Midnight Ranter (aka Ayaka)