Lying

How do you get over yourself?

How do you move on?

Why do bad things happen to you and no one else?

My 17 year old daughter asked me this today over the phone

Mind you, I know you are thinking “how come you have a daughter who is 17 and you are only 24?”

I have held her when she was a baby, I have seen her as she discovered the world with her big bright eyes.

I have taken her to proms and helped her crash study for history and English.

And today I have seen her as her heart broke for the first time.

And I let her talk.

I wanted to comfort her but I remembered that there is a pain that cannot be comforted.

That first heart break.

That numb pain, where you feel your world crashing in a single instant,

When you cannot take it and cannot stop crying.

Where you feel that this person is the only one you can ever be with and no one else could take his place.

I wanted to tell her that there will be others, that she will love again.

That she will wear that white dress for the man she loves

But deep down I felt that I would be lying if I said that.

She will never love that way again.

She will feel love again.

But she will be cautious, hesitant, calculating, manipulating her own heart into believing things that may or may happen, things she may or may not feel.

Her scale will go up with each failure, demanding things she may or may not need.

She will be sheltered within herself ,guarded, isolated within her own broken heart.

The truth is I lied to her today, told her to calm down and forget about him, knowing all too well she will
be looking for him in the arms of every man she is with.

I didn’t want to tell her that her heart will sink when she runs into her first love. That the first woman she will learn to hate is the one he is going to marry.

As I spoke to her I regretted all my lies.

you see, for he walked in, my first and only man,my first love,my first dream, and yes, he was holding her hand and he was smiling.

After 745 days, when I had last held his hand.

My heart still sank.

And I still lied.

Insomniac

The fact that I am sleepless today is making me more sleepless than ever.

I have been sleepless for a very long time.

Mind you, I do sleep, as in drift into this weird realm of dreams that are so real and yet never seem to make sense.

But I still drag myself out of bed every morning feeling sleep deprived.

But today I have had it.

One sentence kept echoing forever in my head today; “writing is a lonely business”. And I know exactly why it is.

You see,for years now I try to mix water with fire and it never seems to work.

I am either burnt or drowned.

You can never be a socialite and a writer.

It just does not work.

And I have to choose.

For I am tired.

I love lonliness but I am also dying for company.

I have so many people in my life that I just can’t seem to connect to.

For all fairness, the only thing I own is my thoughts and these are exactly the one thing everyone
seems to want out of me.

And the one thing I can’t provide.

And I am really tired.

I want so many things, I desire so many things, and I am hurt by so many things.

I want to ……… but I can’t.

Story of my life……..

I want to have all the friends in the world but I can’t compromise my privacy.

I want to have all the money I need but I can’t risk my ethics.

I want to have children but I can’t seem to choose the best father I can give them.

I want to walk everywhere but I fear what I might meet down the road.

I want to have someone to run back home to but I can’t seem to find him.

I want so many things.

I don’t want to be lonely.

But I crave it most of the time.

I am still sleepless but I have made my choice.

I m alone in crowds, I am a people’s person who does not like to be around people most of the time.

I will go home to no one.

I will hope for no one,I will dream of nothing.

I want to sleep.

And I will sleep.

An endless sleep, a dark black empty sleep.

And I will love it.

Queen of Small Details

A few Years ago when my life was more simpler.

When I had not been aware of depression, heartbreak, bad karma and all the rest.

When I was not aware of the bad world lurking outside my father’s arms.

I was in love.

Simple love, where things simply did fit it. Every small little detail made sense.

Detail…..that word always found a place in my life. And for that he tended to call me “the Queen of small details”

And in a sense, I was.

I was aware of every little thing that ever happened, I remembered everything in every sense, people were not just people, they were smells,features,smiles, clothes and words.

And I always remembered all these details.

Life went on, I was no longer in love, no longer sheltered, no longer dependant, the one thing that never failed me in this world was my ability to remember detail.

But lately I have been growing tired, the queen simply no longer wanted to reign detail.

I wanted to abdicate the throne.

I wanted to just flow through life. I wanted to start a clean slate of my perception of life.

You see, the thing is I was not the one ruling small details, small details were the one in charge.

Small details dictated my feelings and actions. And I went through life following whatever these small details.

Mind you, they come quite handy sometimes, I see things in people others can’t, that was my edge.

That was what created the script writer, the novelist, the story teller that I am today.

I am thankful for small details, they were very loyal subjects to me.

But I am 27 years old, and I have yet to find my big picture, I do not know what big picture. I can describe every little scene in my life in every detail there is.

But I don’t know what big pictures are.

I don’t know where I fit in as,a small detail, in the big canvas that is life.

Now what?

Death, The Tower ,The Hermit and Myself.

I think I was 18 when I was first introduced to my psychic abilities...when I was younger I used to foresee bad things happening to people but not to me (damn..nothing is ever perfect) . Then a good friend of mine introduced me to the Tarot cards.

For all of you non-metaphysical people out there,Tarot cards have been used for ages to tell fortunes and predict the future as well as telling the reader things about themselves.

So I learned all the card spreads,read all the books,bought the cards and set out for wonderful experience of learning about myself and others in the process.

What I started as a joke came out to bite me where the sun don't shine.

What I said to people was true so I started having cult followers in my family and friends.

people started suggesting I even should get paid for it and I therefore created one rule.

no predicting the future.just reminding the "client" of how they are and how they should relate to themselves and needs later on in life. But that didn't meant that 99% of the time I saw ugly things I just didn't want to say to the people I loved.

still I am beginning to feel awful,having the talent is wonderful but not when I break someone's heart by saying that their loved one IS not there for them.

You see,I can see the future and the future is never fully lit by sunshine and I hate to be the one pointing out the gloom.

say what you will about people who see the future but If I have a 50% chance of being true and someone just says "you were right,he was cheating on me " or "you were right,she did leave after all".

I feel then that I have added pain on top of pain,not only will that person suffer now,they will forever remember that they had known earlier and should have done something to prevent it.

Today i have ventured and lay the cards for myself -usually means bad luck but in my case I could not be more unlucky even if i tried.

And i saw him.
I saw myself weeping.
I could hear my heart breaking.
I could see him moving on.
I saw him thinking of me wondering about what could have happened.
And I saw his confusion.
I also saw my inner strength.
My charm,All my possibilities.

In the end I saw the card of Death and the Tower and the Hermit.

Death is the card of loss and new beginnings

The Tower is the card of Disillusion,Revelation and realizing hidden truths.

The Hermit is the card of Solitude .

for the first time I didn't dare ask myself for the meaning.

for I am afraid of being right.

An Ode To Hope

I apologize for the inconvenience I am about to bring you.

But this is not about you.

It is about me.

I am getting back on track.

I admit it.

I am loving it.

I love the creativeness, the flow of things I have always loved about myself.

I love the fact that I have come to see things as they truly are and should be.

But I have reached the end of my Rope.

I have no hope anymore.

I had hoped you would change.

That you would come to realize how much I mean to you.

That I would be the one to move on and that you would strive to reach me before it is too late.

But you are too smart for that.

You choose your moments.

You know exactly my weak points.

And then you go for them.

And my hope gets the best of me all over again.

They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world. Someone to love, something
to do, and something to hope for

Well,

I have found my calling at last.

I know how hard it is going to be,

But I am going for it.

I have something to do.

I have more than one person to love and be loved by.

But I have to come out and say it.

You have taken my something to hope for.

And instead of my series of apologies. I will thank you.

For teaching me that living only on hope is a last solution.

And I still have many options other than hope.

After all, the best is not yet to come.

The best is yet for me to bring.

And believe me, I will bring it.

For you should never mess with someone who has no hope.

And dear Hope ,go bite the dust.

You never brought anything anyway.

انا مش بنت عذراء

في يوم من ذوات الايام.....كنت فاضية شويتين فقررت اقرأجريدة معارضة شهيرة على سبيل التغيير.

وطالعني (حلوة طالعني دي) خبر لطيف جدا نبهني لحاجة عمري ماخدت بالي منها قبل كده.

الخبر كان عنوانه "فتاة تعرض بكارتها للبيع بخمسة ملايين دولار"

طالبة امريكية قررت تبيع السهم الوحيد اللي ليه قيمة في حياتها عشان تصرف على دراستها.

وبما ان الانسة محترمة وضميرها صاحي قررت تضيف شهادة معتمدة من طبيب نساء وولادة محترم يشهد فيه انها لم يسبق لها ممارسة الجنس وان غشاء بكارتها زي الفل ولم يتم ترميمه او تجديده او الاضافة اليه.

وعرض رجل اعمال استرالي تقديم خمسة ملايين دولار امريكي مقابل هذا الشرف العظيم.

انا بس عندي كام سؤال.

انا بنت عندي 26 سنة ومتعلمة ومثقفة وحلوة ومحترمة ودمي خفيف وكل حاجة. وعذراء.

والحمد لله قابلت اكثر من حد عبر عن اعجابه بيا وبشخصيتي وده طبعا قبل اعلان "خليك راجل واشرب بريل"

سيبك من انا عندي دين وضمير ووعدت اهلي اني احافظ على نفسي عشان ابن المحظوظة اللي حيجي يشيل.
وسيبك من الازمة الاقتصادية الطاحنة اللي بتخلي الناس تبيع ولادها.
مش دي القضية.
انا بس صعبان عليا نفسي وصعبان عليا بنات جيلي والجيل اللي قبلي كمان.
اشمعني احنا بنقعد ندور على حد يقدر هذا السهم بس ويحترمه ويحترمنا بالمرة.
طيب مهو كلنا محافظين على عذريتنا بس بنضطر نستحمل الفصال في مشاريع الجواز واخرة اي واحدة فينا شبكة ذهب (واحيانا دبلة بس) ومهر اهالينا حيدفعوا اضعافه عشان يجيبوا مستلزمات هذا الحدث العالمي من مراتب وفوط وملايات وستاير وخلافه.
طيب حيقولوا ان الحكاية في بلاد الغرب بقت نادرة مما يرفع من قيمة سهم العذرية.
جميل.
ليه السهم ده ملوش معالم في مصر.
يشترط وجوده برغم ان الصفقة كلها غالبا مبتجيبش همها.
هو اصلا دليل على ايه؟
لازمته ايه؟
يعني من الاخر الرجل بيقعد يتنطط ويشترط عذرية الجاموسة الي جاي يشتريها لكن وبعدين مهو اخره كام يعني....100 الف جنيه...
مش لاعبة.
انا مش اقل منها في حاجة...بالعكس على الاقل اي بنت مصرية محترمة مش حتقدم غشاء بكارتها بس.

طب اشمعنى.
ليه هناك حتى حكاية العذرية دي بتتقدر واحنا هنا بنقدم حاجات كتير ومش حتتقدر خالص على الاغلب.
طب انا مش لاعبة.
انا مش حقيسها بالحب والعشرة وبس.

 انا ابويا صرف عليا كتير قوي ومش فلوس بس. صرف عليا حب وحنية واحترام. احترمني كانثى ليها دماغها ومشاعرها وحقوقها. علمني اشغل دماغي عشان مخدش على دماغي.
وانا الصراحة مش عاجبني ان حتى الحاجة الوحيدة اللي الزوجة الكويسة بتتباع بيها هنا ببتاخد عندنا بالرخيص.
انا مش حتباع بالرخيص. وحرفض ان فكرة عذريتي تتناقش اصلا.
من هنا ورايح الرد الوحيد حيبقى "انت مالك؟ "
انا غالية اوي.
لان المصنع اللي انتجني مش اي مصنع وصاحب الشركة مبخلش على المنتج اللي طلعه وطلعه منتج زي الفل.

انا مش سهم واحد بس . انا مش شوية دم وخلاص.

انا بيت واستقرار وحب وعشرة وعيال وحاستحمل فقر وبهدلة وقلة ذوق وقلة قيمة وكل حاجة.

حاكبر وحاعلم وحاستحمل افكار غريبة وحموات اغرب.
حيتحول يومي الى 20 ساعة عمل متواصل بين شغلي وبيتي بالاضافة الى إسعاد تاجر المواشي اللي جه شال ببلاش تقريبا.

انا مش بنت عذراء بس. وشرفي مش نقطتين دم. انا شرفي في اخلاقي وطباعي وديني. في البيت اللي حبنيه واحافظ عليه وشرف ابويا في ان مفيش راجل لمسني حتى لو بحبه. شرف ابويا واللي حيتجوزني هو اللي بيخليني اسافر واشتغل وهو ينام وفي بطنه بطيخه صيفي.

طيب....ايه رأيكو بقى ان من هنا ورايح انا برضه حأطالب بحاجات في البني ادم اللي حيشيل.

انا عايزة دليل على شرفه.

عايزة اعرف ان عمره ملمس واحدة مش مراته حتى لو هي موافقة. وان عمره ما فضح سر واحدة وعمره محكم على واحدة من لبسها او مشيتها او تغطيتها لشعرها بس.

عايزة اعرف ان عمري ماحكون نايمة في بيتي وهو بره مع واحدة تانية.

الحكاية بسيطة...مشيها بنظام البورصة.
سهمي الوحيد مش عذريتي. انا عندي اسهم كتير قوي.
بيت واهل وثقافة وسمعة وتعليم وشغل وخبرة في الحياة وقادرة اني احب واتحب وقادرة اني افتح بيت واربي بنات عذراوات بجد اعلمهم يرفضوا يتباعوا على انهم سهم في بورصة حقيرة محصلتش حتى CASE 30.

من الاخر. مش احنا في ثورة وازمة اقتصادية وظروف منيلة وبتاع؟

انا بقى مش بايعة. وحوقف تداولي في السوق لغاية ما السوق يتعدل.
اسهمي وانا حرة فيها.

Just an Observation

7:50 am

I wake up,groggy from the sleepless night and weakened by the pill popping.

I wash my face, I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize me anymore.

I don’t care.

I wear whatever is clean, I pick my bag, take the elevator, Said, the new doorman, smiles and says goodmorning. I mumble something in the same context and head for the cab.

There is always a begger around the corner, in 12 years, she has been there and I have never given her money, I have always felt she is a professional one and I don’t feel right about giving money to her kind.

The Nile meets me with its still water , I always look the other way, no reason, just an observation.

Before I reach the Moneeb bridge, there is the HSBC new building, a group of Koreans are always walking inside the building, three guys and one girl, why on earth would we be hiring Asians when we have this rate of unemployment is beyond me, no reason, just an observation.

Two blocks down, a young woman is always getting into her car, she always wears short skirts, she has ugly hairy legs, I know this for a fact because the wind always blows her skirt up, she never seems to mind, I can’t find a reason, it is just an observation.

There is a bridal shop right beneath the bridge, It has beautiful dresses, the window display is changed every day, the theme is usually one color, I make a point to see the display every day, it is something that makes me smile, no reason, just an observation.

When I reach the building at work, I always arrive at around 8:30, I always wait for the elevator with a man who always looks me up and down in disgust, and he always steps into the other elevator or wait for the next one, I always get into the elevator smiling at his attitude, no reason, just an observation.

Eight hours of laughter, arguments and work will pass, on the ride home, I will be looking at miserable looking people trying to catch a ride home, I will be thankful for getting back to maadi, I smile when I see the nile again and I observe its water all the way home, again, no reason, just an observation.

My mum always smiles with relief when I walk in, then she tells me every single little thing that has happened when I was not there, it always irritates me, she never ceases, I never complain, I smile and I go to my room, no reason, just smiling.

I will go to my favorite café, I will play tarneeb and drink coffee, I will go to the doctor (one of them anyways), I will go home tired, and I will always stand at my building’s entrance for a moment ,at 10 pm every night, I take in a deep breath, wish my beloved trees good night, no reason ,just an observation.

I will get into bed, take my antibiotic du jour, my anti depressant du jour and my pain killer du jour, I read for 20 minutes, write for another twenty. Then sleep dreamlessly. I always do that, no reason, just an observation.

For no reason I will wake up at 3:15 and again at 6:03, no reason, just an observation.

Here is the thing, at all these moments, I always think of you, just your face.

No reason, Just an observation.

A hint of an impossible dream!

Forget about everything…. Sit down in silence….want nothing…think of nothing…

Now breathe slowly…allow yourself to drift away….

Forget about what everyone would say, do or expect…

Now think of this…

A warm home, a house with simple furniture…warm colors… nothing too flashy or expensive….

A true loving home expects you every day,

The moment you step inside, the smell of homemade food welcomes you inside, to my open arms.

I would be there to welcome you home, happy because you simply exist in my life, my arms will rest around you for a minute, assuring you, taking away all the heartache and the mundane chatter of work.

Never worry, you are home.

“A warm shower then dinner, how does that sound?” I whisper into your ears.

Ten minutes later, you step into the dining room, to find your favorite food, prepared with love, not
because I have to but because I want to.

You spend a couple of hours finishing up work, I will sit and read a book and catch up on news, with one eye on you, not because I need anything but because I love looking at you.

There is something about your face when you are concentrating that makes my heart skip a beat.

Moments later we are in bed, do you notice that our hands always seem to find their places on each
other’s bodies, never fumbling, never lost or confused, never shy….we seem to belong together. I reach for you, desperate to catch the smell of your skin, and our lips meet, you have always said there is something about my lips but I have always thought that that something is your lips on mine. That is simply it.

Our hectic days of fast innocent fun are behind us, making love is never hurried anymore, we take our sweet time exploring and devouring and learning, and we never cease to amaze each other. Our bodies move in astonishing harmony, you always read my mind, and I always know what you want. It is never planned nor an obligation. We actually like being together.

You whisper sweet dirty words that only I understand, and I whisper things that turn you wild, when it is all over, your head finds its rightful place on my chest, we always have a naked silent moment in each other’s arms, wanting nothing, saying nothing. At that moment I want to tell you how much I love you, but I never do, words are pointless when I am around you. You never expect it anyway, deep down you know it all.

You will drift asleep in my arms, I will wake you for work, make breakfast and coffee for you, watch you dress for work, make sure your tie is on properly.

I watch you leave and my body is already aching for you, my eyes aching for your face, my nostrils
ache for the smell of your skin.

I will go to work thinking of you, life kicks in, everything ever changing but one thing, My love for you.

Now come back to reality, and think….was that so bad, so very bad?

You tell me.

So Much it Hurts

In between feverish fits of semi-sleep, you know, where your brain is racing, your eyes are sore, your body is aching, you are dying to sleep but it is just not happening, anyway, in those fits, one sentence kept echoing through my mind “I miss you so much it hurts”

I really do not remember where I had heard that sentence, which film? Which star? Which song? I remember it was a man and I remember that this sentence had always puzzled me, simply because when I was younger, I prided myself on my ability to rationalize my flow of feelings, things-in my stupid somewhat idiotic opinion back then- did not have to hurt if you could control them.

Now it is different, love hurts, rejection hurts, acceptance hurts, negotiations hurt, lack of inspiration hurts, expectations hurt. On an average I was starting to feel soul-ache every day on a span of two to three hours at once.

Now why is this related to “I miss you so much it hurts” is not making much sense to me yet. All those feelings to me are based on a missing basis,

Love did not hurt; it is missing that person in question. Rejection does not hurt; it is missing the feeling of acceptance. Acceptance does not hurt; it is missing the fact that the person accepting you is not the one you want.

Negotiations do not hurt; it is missing the feeling that you are of more worth to the extent that you should not negotiate to begin with. Lack of inspiration does not hurt; it is missing days when inspiration is flowing like an endless river. Expectations do not hurt; it is missing the guts to meet those expectations, missing days when you were fearless and worry-less.

You might be wondering, so why would you be dwelling on things you miss? And I would tell you, because I am honest, because when I was a kid I was told that it is always healthy to speak of what you feel, people are entitled to their opinions but you are always entitled to your emotions.

Right now, on May 6th, 2011. When I am 26 years, 6 months and 17 days old, I miss a lot of things so much it hurts.

I miss my grandfather’s garden so much it hurts. I miss my grandmother’s soft braiding of chocolate brown locks so much it hurts. I miss my walks with my father every Saturday evening around maadi, so much it hurts. I miss feeling happy so much it hurts.

I miss loving my country so much it hurts. I miss having loyal loving supportive friends so much it hurts. I miss butterflies in my stomach so much it hurts. I miss good books so much it hurts. I miss hoping for the future so much it hurts. I miss getting dressed up and feeling pretty so much it hurts. I miss feeling truly healthy so much it hurts. I miss not having to put up an act so much it hurts.

I miss my soul so much it hurts. Over and out.

When You Are Sorry

I am sorry for the way things went...for the what I said

for what I have done.

for being the friend when I should have been the lover.

for being the lover when I should have been the friend.

for being upset when u I should not have been.

for not being upset when I clearly should have.

for crying in your arms when I should have walked away.

for loving you when I should have left.

for allowing strike one,two,three and four. for allowing you to fail in front of my eyes.

for respecting and honoring things you never honored.

for having faith.

for having hope.

for dreaming.

I apologize for words said,emotions conveyed, and intimacies created.

I am sorry for sticking up for you when I should have turned away.

I apologize for what I was and for what I became.

I apologize for every touch,smile and heartflutter.

I apologize for the secrets I kept for you

I apologize for being the safe haven,your shelter from the storms.

I apologize for braving storms for you even when I was as fragile as a tiny twig.

I apologize for me being me and you being you.

I am sorry for being sorry for someone you should never be sorry for.

I apologize and I rest my case.A lost one.My very first losing case.

I am sorry but I will stop apologizing.

sorry

L'Autre

Always in secret,

The warm blanket that covers you every night.

The one you turn to.

The one who sees you for who you are and accepts all your shortcomings and successes.

The one you miss during the day and make love to during the night.

The one solid reality.

The hope,the reward and the punishment.

The one you can not be with nor can not live without.

The one who knows you inside out.

The one who knows your scent.....Who can blindly trace every curve,blemish and scar on your skin.

Who knows every reason behind every white hair,every scar and who can name at least 10 smiles of your face.

I am that one.

except I am also the other one.

The hidden one.

The only one who sees value in the leftovers.

I am the friend,the lover,maybe even the one.

But mind you,I am nothing but the mistress

The Finger and The Ring

“I know you will never get married when you are looking like that…You have a good career, a brilliant writer, the kindest of hearts and a kick ass sense of humor but come on…you could put some effort into yourself. You are cute, you just are not trying. That way no guy will put a ring on that finger”

I pause, for a person who has been having a bad month in terms of scratched corneas, high stress levels, insomnia and fatigue, getting up and into a Gucci pant suit isn’t my cup of tea. But again, when was it ever?

I take a deep breath, look up at the haze of smoke I am making, think about the deadlines I have and the ever present hassle of getting time to look over the family issues, getting time to go to the gym, eat, work, see my friends and sleep.

And I realize, I am not trying not because I don’t have the time and when I do have the time I would rather curl up with a good book or see what Barney Stinson has been up to with the How I met your mother gang.

But again, even if I had a 60 hour day, I still would not take more than 10 minutes to get dressed. See, clothing, originally, are meant to cover you up. Make up is not my thing and I am not a designer whore.

I think I am just not the ladiest of ladies and I never seemed to mind.

I look at my friend with the earlier comment, I simply smile and say “Try for what?”.

“To get a guy”

Again, “for what?”

“To marry you, silly”

One more time “for what?”

She asks “marry you for what?”

I nod, smiling.

She says “because You have to be married at some point”

See, suddenly I am no longer a brilliant writer, a great friend, sister, daughter, manager or employee.

I am the girl with no ring on her finger.

I go to the bathroom, take a deep look in the mirror. And I genuinely like what I see, I appreciate what I see. I am thankful for what I see and have.

I just don’t have a ring on my finger, that is all.

I go back to the table, smiling, she says” what are you smiling about?”.

“Simple, I am the girl who has no ring on her finger but has the world at her fingertips, if some guy can’t get past the jeans and T shirt and the everlasting lipstick-less smile, he should live with it, not me!!”

I sat down, and the world still stayed at my ring-less fingers. And men continued to live with their failure to put a ring on my finger.

Road Less Taken

Night wraps all the trees.

The sound of my car engine fades away as I park.

Doors are shut…silence all around.

My ability to move is no longer there.

I am tired.

So very tired….3 years of pretending are finally taking their toll on me.

Robert Frost’s “The road not taken” keeps echoing in my head.

My eyes turn blurry, my knees are weak, tears begin to warm my face.

Red and yellow lines begin dancing in front of me.

I lock the car and reach for the phone hoping my parents are upstairs to rescue me.

My *I am a grown up* alter ego kicks in and the phone drops .

Silence.

More silence.

Dancing lines fade away…

I keep repeating “I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

two roads diverged in a wood, and I --

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference”

Failed careers, uninspired nights, words lost and emotions forbidden may still come in the future for me.

I will know things and learn things…moments like these will come around again… I will grow tired again.

Choices will lay ahead … I will not always know what to do.

Parents will breathe down my back, society will press me even more, friends will read into my actions
and take it the wrong way and I will not always know what to do.

Jobs will continue to be uninspiring, relationships unfulfilling and laughter non hearted.

Pretense will continue to rule my life and small details will continue to be taken over by me.

But I have already known my destiny.

I have chosen to take the road less traveled and that already has made all the difference.

Oblivious

There is this little humming sound coming from the space heater, it is dark yet glowing.

I nestle in your arms, not feeling protected or strong, but rather feeling serene, feeling for the very first time that I don’t need to go anywhere or do anything. Nothing is overwhelming, nothing is pressing, nothing is urgent.

It may be dark but I can trace your smile on your face, I am smiling…from within.

Despite the fact that it is only you and me…we insist on whispering, sweet whispers that make me giggle.

No pretense, no acts, no facades…Nothing.

You , me and darkness. Sweet blissful darkness.

It is peaceful, endearing and everlasting.

You say something, kissing me and I am half listening as I fade into this other realm of warmth.

I am about to answer when something blares in my ear, I jump up in bed, it is my alarm.

It’s time for work, time to check on my mother, it is time for boredom and repetition and heartache.

You are not there, I will not call you, hear your voice or touch you ever again.

I get dressed in a hurry and go to kiss mum goodbye.

As I reach for the door, she stops me and says in that surrendering tone “Radwa… go wash your face…You have been crying in your sleep again”

I don’t….

I don’t really think it makes a difference…I have to get over you not over my tears. Nothing can wash that away.

Daddy

Lights always flicker in hospitals. Did you ever notice that?

People also get sick in hospitals.

And people realize things in hospitals.

My first hospital experience was waking up mid surgery when I was 4. I had been chasing a butterfly and I had lost my balance trying to catch it. And I broke my arm.

That day I learnt that mommy and daddy can’t take all the pain away regardless of how much they want to.

When I was 14 I had my appendix removed, I was at school , mom was at work and dad was on his way to his. He came to pick me up, took me to a hospital and decided for the surgery in less than an hour.

At the same time my mother had the same pain in the same area while she was at work and could not make sense of it until she realized it was me who was in pain and not her.

That day I learnt that the moment the umblical cord is cut between mother and child is not at birth but years later when one of them passes away.

I found out that day that saying I love you to mom is not enough and never will be.

On January 28th,2009 I learned that My Daddy is not immortal.

When daddy was taken into hospital suffering from a heart attack at the age of 55, I discovered what a lump in the throat means.

You see,when your roots are suffocated, you automatically are too.

I remember walking into the ICU, Where he was awake and smiling and joking with the nurses. I remember the heart monitor peeping. I remember his hand holding mine,reassuring me that he is alright.

Those hands that held me,soothed me and slapped me playfully sometimes, I took them in mine, canula and all and began subconsciously examining them, memorizing them.

I let him reassure me and joke with me.

I laughed out loud so that my tears won’t escape.

And my first ever moment of regret came,one of many more to come.

I regretted rolling my eyes at him.

I regretted disrespecting him deep inside me when he would not let me have my way.

I regretted going out with my friends on his days off when I knew that it won’t be a day off for him unless I was with him.

I regretted hating his protectiveness.

I regretted upsetting him and breaking his heart when I was unhappy or heartbroken.

I now remember dad’s hands ,every detail of them. I also remember his face and the light in his eyes.

I remember his scent, his movements, his touch on my hands and him taking me into his arms when I am nearly as tall as he is.

One thing I don’t regret.

Is my prayer to God that night in January.

I crept into my bed and cried myself to sleep praying to God one prayer.

“I know it is against your rules but please, just please, keep my daddy for me, I know you don’t do that”
“but please, Make Daddy immortal, would you?”

I know God won’t and I dread the day, for that day will witness my loss of faith.

Not in God, Not in Islam but in the fact that all kinds of pain will fade away with time.

Some pain does stay, the pain of letting go of your roots.

And standing on your own.

Here is the thing, I can’t stand on my own, I am still daddy’s little girl and I can’t live without my daddy.

Shoot me, soothe me or disagree with me.

But I can’t grow up this much,

No one does and no one should