In constant need

for support I don't have.

And in constant attempts to make up my own.

...

I wish I was able to sketch anything, or take a picture.

I wish I wasn't spending my time, instead, being jealous of her.

I wish I wasn't jealous of her likes either.

And I wish this wishing took me anywhere.

To Reconcile

To start filtering your life of any activity other than what you want to do, and only that. No pleasing and no pursuit of others' satisfaction..

To gather all the affection you had scattered around in a box and bury it at the underground of your consciousness..

To not enjoy something too much, and not ache for something too much either..

To learn to start being nice to yourself, because you can't depend on anyone else to cradle you..

To actively eradicate all the memories/pictures/music/habits of your past way of living. Pretty much anything that provokes its return..

To be as coherent as a brick wall, and not let anyone in until you've completely healed..

To grow a special area in your brain just for thought surveillance. If any thought of longing appears, eliminate immediately..

And to word all this into clear ordered thoughts, to have it visible enough to start applying it..

Is to be self sufficient; To reconcile.

~

Dear God,

Good morning. I'm failing to get the message here.

Love,
Me

Letter

Dear God,

Thanks for giving me such a beautiful face.

Love,
Me

Like Hell

"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell."
~Edna St Vincent Millay

I am free

Dear God,

Can I thank you enough?! It's like your surprise present to me, and not just any present, it's a present that shows you love me. It's exactly what I needed, and even I couldn't pinpoint that!

Could it have gone in a more smooth way? Even though the timing seemed wrong, it was just right. I love you God, I love you so much and you're there to walk me through my troubles even when I forget you. At the peak of things, I could feel you right there, right next to me, in your full supportive presence. How can I express how much I love you?!

I am happy.

And most importantly, I am free.

...
..
.

To Grow

To present a structured argument to one's parent and remain strong throughout

To not start neurotic motion such as nail biting or leg shaking

To not break down into powder and start bringing up 100 year old issues in a high pitched tone

To not feel like the worst person in the universe and to feel that you actually believe in what you've pushed yourself to talk about

Is a sign you're grown

...
..
.

25 days

Dear you (I don't know what else to call you),

The real you has chosen to leave. You've decided that my faults have overcome my good traits and that you're tired of doctoring me. I can't argue much, because I agree, truth be told. I'm tired of doctoring me too. Yet, now I'm left with myself and an imaginary you. One who still listens to me and babies me.

Do you know that I still don't know how to feel, or how to deal with anything?

I was standing on solid ground, and it disappeared. So I don't know how to feel but lost. I'm sorry to remind you of this dear, I'm sorry to bring up anything bad we could have told each other, but you've told me you never mattered to me. I believed it like I believe anything you tell me. I told myself the classic lines of how utterly impossible it was for me to have true affection for you and went and did the one thing you hated me to do, the one thing I pathologically enjoyed doing before I met you. If I hadn't changed, why did I not enjoy it? Why did you constantly appear in my head, even though I was more intoxicated than I probably ever was? Is this a dirty game of yours, to haunt me to my ends? Why did you have to not understand me like that? Why did you have to make me feel like the opposite of everything we've tried to make me together? Did you feel I hurt you too much to deserve being left with anything good you gave me? I'm so sorry to admit this to you now. You've ceased to try to understand me, and therefore will interpret this as ''typical me'', ''the deliberate mess in my brain that's as messy as my bedroom'', and I can't blame you dear, It's too much to ask of a human being to understand further.

I still don't understand, though. How can you invest a year in someone and then leave like that? Did you see yourself withdraw? Did you see how it looked like? The one I had feelings for must have at least had some guilt. We were an inch away from perfection, and you decided to take your toy box and leave. Did you ever think of it that way? Do you honestly wholeheartedly believe I haven't changed the least bit? Why do you see my faults as strengths while they're downright weaknesses? You and I know that. We know it like our names and our favourite songs and people. Why did you not think of that?

I still don't know what colour to want my hair to be. I didn't stop dying it black because you liked it black. What is it supposed to be now? Where's my favourite spot on earth supposed to be, now that our place together is supposed to be meaningless? And what the hell should I do with the raisins I bought you? How should I feel about raisins in the first place? Who should I escape to, dear? And why is imaginary you so silent? Who should I talk to when I get a nightmare? Who, after you will tolerate with staying on the phone until I fall asleep again? Who should be my escape and my comfort zone? Who should I count a million times when I count my blessings? Should I hate the way my hands look again, now that I should pretend you never existed? And all the music we loved together, that was all I listened to, what should I listen to now? Where am I supposed to get a new taste in music? When I'm in situations where I feel unwelcome or unloved, you naturally won't be there, so does this mean I should hit the wall or swallow rat poison for all you care? I don't know how to feel, love. I can't feel like a victim here, I can't let myself mourn the loss, it was all my fault in the first place and I took your tolerance for granted. I can't feel guilty either, it's a dead ended feeling and brings the regret on, too. Anger isn't an option, the only one I have to be angry with is myself. I wake up every day wanting to see you and erase that feeling, I look for another to replace it with and find nothing, just a huge space of being lost and empty and unimportant. An extra to my already existing suffocation.

I'm not finished yet, I still have so much more to tell you. I'm just tired trying to translate my suffocation into words.

Goodnight
Love,
Me

From the inside of a tunnel

I'm in a dark place.

I feel as helpless and as clueless as my child self

I always could see the hidden corners of me. Everything I did wrong was for a reason that I knew. Either to break down a God, feed a sense of deprivation, get back at someone or cradle one of my many other insanities.

But this time, I cannot see a thing. This ignorance and lack of solid ground is driving me to my ends.

And the images I see do not count, for they themselves, are more painful than the very state of blindness.

Foggy detailed snapshots of my childhood, incidents I thought I've forgotten.. the nostalgia itself is distasteful and disrespectful of my space

Unjustified persistent worries, over things as trivial as air

And nightlong nightmares of mutated darkened scenarios of my worst fears

I wonder how God ever approved of the existence of nightmares, let alone being stuck in them, and having them repeat themselves relentlessly.

There is no eloquent manner of expressing a state of mere fear of the dark.

The effect of this condition on me isn't an illusion, as I'm amused to call everything I feel

It has done enough to prove it's not, and miraculously leaked its way out of the numbness on my chest.

It actually managed to put the ducts behind my eyes to work before the rustiness in them blocked them permanently; one thing that counts for the peculiar state of being.

A year has gone by since we've been together. Not once throughout it has he failed to nurse me in my ordeals, all trivial and substantial. It earned him my trust and sincere emotion.

For the first time, I cannot but remain tongue tied to how he is towards this. He unmistakably preferred his peace of mind and drug of choice over supporting me. Bearing in mind he's the only one who knows how dark it is in here.

I'm not suicidal, and I'm not a pessimist. But in this state of suffocation, I truly wish I reach my final breath. It's not alright being in a state of constant suffocation.

At least not for me.

Prayer is magic

Prayer

"But I believe that the desire to please
you does in fact please you.
And I hope that I have that desire in all
that I am doing.
And I know that if I do this, you
will lead me by the right road
though I may know nothing about it.

Therefore will I trust you always
though I may seem to be lost
and in the shadow of death, I will
not fear, for you are ever with me
and you will never leave me
to face my perils alone."


This isn't of my own words

But it describes exactly how I feel, or rather, how I used to feel. Now it's just a theory to me, that could or could not be true..

My own prayer will go like this..

Dear God,

I am clueless
So absolutely clueless it makes me depressed
Help me remember who you are
for it's the only fact that wakes me up
remind me that the desire to please you, really does please you
for everyone around me seems to think otherwise
and although I claim I'm strong, I end up going with the herd
and I admit
this time I resort to you, because I have no one else to go to, and because of that alone

I cannot forgive my constant estrangement to the world
I cannot forgive you for letting it be, like you forgive my presumptuousness
But I'm trying
I admit I'm not strong enough for it, so help me
I pray expecting you to do all the work, now this time I'm sincerely intending to change with my own hands


I love you God,
Me

I'm so beautiful today

Revelation

I have successfully violated all my half baked standards of being a good person.

I'm not a good person.

Not because of something I've done, It's something I repetitively habitually wholeheartedly do and tell myself I won't do it again every time I do it

Not only that it hurts me and my self image irreversibly, It also hurts and misleads people I love, in ways I would never ever accept to be hurt.

The thing is, this time, I admit I'll do it again. And I admit I'm not a good person because of it.

And I don't know what to do about it.

Flying

I wrote this on a plane, It's nothing new or special, It's just a recording of my thoughts, don't read if you don't have much time =) :

This is my second time ever. First time could or could not count. I was about six I think. With the imagination of a six year old I pictured a euphoric experience on something that's more of a magic flying mat than an aeroplane, didn't happen of course. I was too small to comfortably watch anything, I was disturbed by the noise (which seemed so much louder than it actually is now), my ears hurt like hell. That's all I can remember. It was disappointing.

Now I go on the plane - back from where I went - which looks a hell lot smaller than it did back then. The walkways are so narrow, they could fit one person max. I'm greeted by a hideous flight attendant. She's so hideous I can't look at her long enough to smile back. I see another one behind her, who's less hideous. Then realize that, by technical measures, number 1 is prettier than 2. I just saw her as uglier because of mostly her tattooed eyebrows and massive amounts of make up.

I still can't stand the noise, actually as I write this I realize how much I can't stand it. I'm glad I have the music to distract me from it, distract me not hide it. We're still on the ground. On the flight headed here I expected the land part would take so long like it had seemed to me long ago, but it didn't. Now we're taking off, It's such a good feeling. It's not happy, It's good. I stick my face to the window. I get this thought that I'm in a fridge but I brush it off. Lights are getting further. My song of the week (currently favorite song) is on. He comes up in my head for no reason and without permission, like he normally does, second time we said goodbye in particular. This feels very close to it. My feelings are in constant hibernation, they tend to wake up at goodbyes or when I see/talk to him, then go back to sleep. Even though nothing about this trip was particularly orgasmic, I liked it. I liked this place. It's a lot like him. He told me I'd like it. I won't get to tell him about it anyway. This isn't a fight or a break up, It's a general silence caused by me being impulsive and saying something stupid. It's making me feel like crying most of the time but never feeling it strongly enough to actually cry. The sight of the lights going further kind of touches my feelings out of hibernation a little. My eyes get a bit wet, but not wet enough to produce a tear.

Too bad, would have felt good

I give myself a mental slap on the face. I need to stop relating everything back to him like that. There are other things I should or could be thinking about.

Both flight attendants are next to me now, number 1 is asking someone what they want to drink. As she pours the drink I inspect her. Her eyebrows are so repulsive. So extremely repulsive they remind me I'm nauseous. Her bubble gum pink blush is concentrated in big damaged pores on her cheeks. She has a perfect nose and goddess cheek bones, but I fail to see any beauty in them. Number 2 has big teeth, a bit of a horse like smile. Her eyes are too round but eventually pretty. I like her hair color, It's obviously highlighted but unlike most Egyptians, It's integrated with her natural color. She has it pulled back in the kind of way you do your hair when you're running late. I like her a lot more. I get a childish desire to have her offer me a drink, not number 1, even though I don't want a drink.

Two little girls are crying/whining/being noisy on the row behind me. One is about 3 years old and the other is a baby on her mother's shoulder. I had seen them earlier at the airport, and done my share of staring at them. Both of them have big beautiful black eyes. I look into the older one's eyes and get the normal urge I get, to basically grab her and run (plane is making a turn, I love this) every time I hear them I get the same urge. I wonder If It's a genuine feeling or just an impulse/phase. The entire plane can't stand them, they're very noisy. Their mother is trying too hard to make them keep quiet but they don't. I like the older one more. I want her to be my daughter. I want her to be smart like me. And I remind myself I need to stop having deranged ideas like that. The way they're talking is only making the itch stronger.

Cairo is here. There's a sea of lights down there. They bring back the crying feeling, but it quickly disappears. It's replaced by a reminder of how much I don't want to be here. I hate Cairo right now. I don't want to be in Cairo. All the adult, teenage and child parts of me are objecting at the moment. Now we're landing. I was too angry to realize how close we were to the ground a few minutes ago.

The way to work, the way to school, the entrance to my building, the stupid elevator, the sex starved staring men on the streets, the insomnia, the curfews, the assignments, the god damn gasoline smell of this city

I don't want to be here.

In Estrangement

.

couldn't think of anything proper to write so will resort to random statements for the 3478753th time

Being around kids too much has refreshed my perception of honesty

That's a reason why I don't want to leave

The fact that I have a job makes my parents respect me a whole lot more

I can't lose that after having it

and having enough money to buy stuff I've wanted for a long time

and having my life too busy and crowded to have time to do stupid impulsive things

But I'm not good enough for it

I have an urge to tell them they're throwing their money away by hiring me

This isn't me doubting myself, It's just me admitting I'm not skilled and patient enough for that kind of work

I'm not even a committed person

I'm treating this like an impulse of mine, do it, suck the life out of it and leave it behind

I hate this, they have expectations of me, I feel like I'm failing them

I don't love the job

I don't have any motivation to wake up in the morning

I have to spend a whole lot of time starting the persuading myself why I have to get up process

and often fail eventually

I do not feel like I'm doing something with my life.

end.