Randomly Kawtar

 With an emphasis on emotions, mental health, the beauty of nature and the little habits that make a life, RandomlyKawtar captures in words and photographs what it is to live, to grow, to believe and to love.

#SHE : a 2 a.m. note on loneliness.

And when light turned to dark and silence weighed on her shoulder, she unfolded her canvas, sat crossed legged, dumped her brush in clean water and fresh paint and painted.

With a first red stroke, she violated the canvas's blankness, then she gradually filled every white space with paint, as if she was filling up the empty space inside her soul.

A space she refused to call loneliness.

Because you see, it is seldom for her to confuse solitude with loneliness, it is seldom for her to not enjoy her own company. 

But not tonight. Tonight she could use some company… still she attempts to keep on expressing her dreams and fears in colors and shapes and shades.

She keeps on painting even though she knows oh so well that reality would crawl back in, the painting will come to an end but nobody will bring an end to her isolation… not if she didn`t ask for it, not if she seemed like blooming in it, not if she didn`t reach for them first and let herself be loved and her soul accompanied.

But she didn`t, instead, she took another step deeper in solitude claiming it to be safer, more controllable.

It`s mesmerizing how dauntless and fearless she is in everything else except this particular point, peculiarly.

Perhaps that`s because she`s tired of being lead and now prefers to be the leader and it`s easier to lead one`s thoughts and desires than it is to deal with others`.

Perhaps she has been working too hard on her skills and on her self that she upgraded the standards of the person who could ease her loneliness.

Or perhaps she fears the risk that comes with letting her truth be uttered before someone else`s truth that is a complete opposition to hers. 

She dreads the risk that her odd enough soul may easily  be unaccepted, misunderstood or worse -disliked and let down. 

She feared being let down one more time so she lets down first, protectively not selfishly. But little did she know, harm was caused by this manifestation of her fears.

She paradoxically craved affection but behaved very doubtfully when offered to her, she would shower people with attention and then excessively cool down when smelling the threat of a commitment or an indifference. Controversially.

She`s not cruel, she`s just scared for God`s sake.

One day, she discovered, from her several contemplations of acquaintances and strangers in times she has no inspiration, that rare are those who aren`t lonely.

Rare are those whose lungs aren`t shrinking from the thirst for a big old laugh, whose minds don`t crave enlightening conversations and whose souls aren`t in need to get anchored with deeper connections.
Rare are those whom loneliness don`t make them hold on to thin threads of hope and take up drugs and make up imaginary worlds and chase up mirages.
Mirages made of shallow human bonds and toxic habits and social media likes and gossip.
All in hope to stop being homesick in their own houses, in hope to embrace that feeling of belonging and prejudice-free sharing.

With this realization, she decided to start embracing her loneliness and indeed make it a catalyst to paint louder and livelier masterpieces that would violate loneliness from people`s lives.

She also decided to start painting in public places, instead of locking herself up in her treehouse all the time.

 She sat on a bench by the lake, fed the swans and begun conversing while painting. She asked the salesman why he loved his job, she asked the old woman how she prepared those delicious cookies, she taught the lonely kid how to dab and stipple little planets and stars for his science project. 

Slowly she got unstuck from her own frame and made it a habit to gently step inside other`s frames and flick some light-colored, full-hearted paint on their darkest shades.

One night after she got home from her day out, loneliness greeted her again, she smiled and refused to be paralyzed by it and finished painting the flower vase that she would present her mother with in the morning, during breakfast.

      Because she came to realize that perhaps everything everyone needs is someone to have breakfast with. Gently. Peacefully.

Grow Gracefully Daisies!!

...Ramadan Schedule...