I don’t think you want to read this. This is a “pouring out my mind” piece of writing I hesitated a lot to share. So don’t blame me on the spelling & sentence structure mistakes.. or the dramatic tone.. or the boring paragraphs.. or the random lines that come in suddenly.. Remember I told you. Otherwise, you may go on..
This is the third day in a row I find myself here is the balcony. The first time was an unsuccessful attempt to fly. But this time I decided to sit there, holding a cup of latte in a hand and one of my books in the other. My laptop & mobile beside me. And on my lap lay some papers, a pencil and the headphones.
Though the sounds of fireworks, fired bullets, helicopters, explosions, protesters cheers, armed forces and who knows what else were only meters away, I seemed numb to them. As if there was no sound. The only sounds I was aware of were the whispers of two guys from the supermarket down our building, talking about what every single person now talks about : Egypt & politics, and the sound of the cold wind rushing and hitting my face. It was cold. I hugged the hot cup in my hand. And something occurred to me for a second. I looked at myself.. I am holding my book but not actually reading. I have my papers and pencil but not writing.. I am just sitting there staring at nothing.. and surprisingly I found myself crying silently.
I didn’t bother wiping the tears away..
I was caught up in the corners of mind.. wondering. I started recalling a day when I was at a meeting at Diwan. Diwan bookstore is one of my favorite places of all time. There was never a time I got into a bookstore and came out hands-empty. I had this thing inside that made me promise myself to buy at least a single book whenever I visit a bookstore. I always kept that promise. Except that day.. After the meeting was done, I kept wandering aimlessly around the books; just reading titles and moving on. On the way home, I figured out that in that past year I haven’t read except one book. One book in a whole year. This might sound like “first world problems” but you have any idea what this means? How things have become? I wondered why I’ve lost that special thing inside me that always kept me addicted to reading no matter what.
I starred at the dark sky then lowered my gaze to the papers on my lap and thought : same goes for writing. Since when I was unable to express how I felt through writing.. ? I started flipping through those papers and all I found were pieces of unfinished, sad writings. And figured out how miserable inside I turned to be. As much as ‘drama queen style’ as it might sound, I thought of the millions of times I acted blind, forced a smile, and faked being happy.
I held the pencil and thought of giving it a try. But all I came out with was :
بعد رحيلهم ..أدركت معنى الذبول ..
I haven’t seen my family since I traveled and started college. I’ve lost count of the days, months, years.. I couldn’t remember my brother’s birthday nor how my mommy’s hug felt like.. I’ve seen a revolution.. I’ve seen my friends die.. I’ve seen death myself but clearly it wasn’t the time yet.
I starred at the horizon. The sky wasn’t dark anymore. Sunrise was close.
I shifted to another corner of my mind; a joyful one. Despite the few beautiful memories I have, I couldn’t linger on that corner for so long. By that time, I had stopped crying.
How would a person who haven’t experienced the pain you are enduring literally feel what you are going through ? – A random thought passed my mind. Now the sun was out and the sky was pure blue. I recalled how I used to feel calm and fine looking at the pure sky. Now I wonder where has that feeling gone.
Sometimes there is nothing to be said. Sometimes nothing should be said. I just want someone to look me in the eyes and tell me its okay that things don’t always go right. That this is how life works and how it will always work. That it’s not going to be easy. Today, tomorrow, the next day. But it will somehow get better.
It will somehow get better..
I held my head up and saw the sun with it’s rays, beautifully penetrating the clouds, signaling the start of a new day. A new day I am alive. A new day I should thank God for.