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.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
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.
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.
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