I am Helpless.

This is the helpless phase. People around me feel all kinds of bad things and I cant even make them feel OK for one second. Even if I try, I fail. Because I am helpless, I am chained. I cant do anything. Freshness of life has failed to reach the hearts of others. Freshness of life has become so worthless. Freshness of life can not do anything. Freshness of life is back as a 16 year old, sittin next to her grandmother who has leukemia reading her bits of the Koraan. Freshness of Life knows that whatever she does, if she can lift the building, if she would bang her head to the wall till her braincells come out, if she could get a hammer and just get all the energy out, it still wont go into getting leukemia to leave the old woman's body.
Now she's 19.
For a long time she thought she can, but she cant. Sarah will still slaughter her own arms, watch her own blood turn into god damn rivers.
Hany will still smoke up just because he knows no other way out of his misery.
Yasmine will still shut up because she feels alien and estranged.

Freshness of Life will die. Freshness of Life will turn into some ugly person who will getaway, one of those who will smile when they least want to. Knowing that others smile because they have to.

Laughing from the heart only existed in the Ice Age, yah?

The math.

I dont know what love is.
I like, I am attached to, but I love myself more. God does the math.
I am away, I dont talk a lot, I dont visit a lot. I feel like it's a heavy obligation to sit and talk. God does the math.
I study, I hate writing, I hate it. I get so stressed. God does the math.
I feel, I care, I am left. I am lost. God does the math.
Till when will god do the math?

Runaway

Runaway. I need to runaway. I need to leave everything here and go there. Sit by the sea and think nothing, be careless. I need a break from everything and everyone. I need a break from everything and everyone. I need a break from all the things everyone needs. I need to rest and dream. I need time for myself. I need to breathe in and breathe out as slowly as I can.
I need to know that I exist.
I need to know that I exist and that I can.
I need to know that I can have time by myself and not run to talk with someone or even something.
I need to go back to having fun all by myself.
I feel like I am going insane.
People are taking so much energy from me. I need to breathe in, breathe out and know that I can regain the energy taken away.

Maybe I was asking for too much when I asked for more than survival.

Maybe this is my going insane blog!

Remember?

There should be no space for guilt. There is space for guilt. You know that leaving someone does not mean that you care about them no more. It does not mean you hate them. You know you still love him, in a different way, but you do. You do not want him to hurt himself, you want him to be happy…but you do not quite know how to do that.

Maybe he thinks about you, maybe he uses you as another reason for his self-loathing scheme. You get into a philosophical conversation and it feels so good to be able to talk with him again without hurting him and not letting him hurt you.

You go on with your life. You go out, you meet people…you feel free. Something in you misses the misery which he had put you in. Something in you wants to look at his pictures again and admire his beauty, and his love of bleakness. You are happy that you can feel alive once again after leaving him, but you miss certain loneliness that was felt. You miss a certain winter-feeling his relationship had given you. And you also miss his winters.

Remember the first time you touched him? You crossed arms with him. And you couldn’t look at his face…it was too hard. You were already overwhelmed by the feeling, you did not need to look out for his own expression.

Remember the first time he held your hand? You were crossing the street and, suddenly, his palm is in yours. He was cold, he was always cold. And you were always warm. You loved his cold hands as much as you loved his warm heart. You even loved his look when he looked as if you just slapped him on the face when all you did was take your hand away

You still love him like the traveling bird that keeps having flashback of its old home that it has no way back to. You love him because he was, once, your home, your key. You still love him because he is the memory.

It's a good day!

It's a good day! I watched a not-so-bad movie. Some holywood shit :D but yah, it's still OK. Failure to Launch! Yah..AND I snuck out of the house to have dinner with a good friend. And another good friend joined us. It was crazy. It was spontaneos and it feels so good. It breaks rules and it feels oh, so good.

Company and What Not

I need to rethink about the people around me. I need to put new definitions for myself with those people. I need to ask myself: who deserves, who doesnt. I need to ask myself how much I trust each of those people. I need to reevaluate people.
Amgad has proven that he is not trust-worthy. I need to understand that!
Gogo has proven that she is too close to live in Mohandeseen. I need to travel to Mohandeseen more often.
Hany has proven to want my company even though he disappears too much. I need to be more pushy.
Hossam seems to be disppearing, I need to talk to him about it and find out where he stands in the middle of my life!
Mark is the only person who's stable in my life right now.
Jazz, though, is also stable. If only I could get inside her head, or convince her to speak up.

I need to speak up. I need to understand why I do things, and refrain from doing others.
I need to read more of Milan Kundera! I think I will do a booklist later...!
Concentration of the summer is Dario Fo, Milan Kundera, Borges and Kafka. I might also want to do a bit of Brecht.

That's it, I'm calm now!

Summertime

Summer. Summer. Summer.
I bumped into the coolest Egyptian blogs yesterday. Turns out it's a whole culture, man. People have blogs that link other people who comment on their stuff and they criticize each other. It's a big fat mess. Now, I dont really know if people are going to read my blog now just because I have Egyptian Blog on it or what. It's not something to think about anyway. Let me give myself something to think about: Yes. Got it. The ugly-ass translator of The Book of Laughter and Forgetting. Now this guy is Lebanese, he's supposed to be a good translator. It is MY FAULT for reading the book in arabic that I now have this guy who is trying to act all literary and shit that I cant even understand what the hell he is saying. He is trying to appear all intellectual on the expanse of Milan Kundera. No one, and I mean NO ONE should get the copy of Ketab El Da7ek Wal Nesyan from Diwan. That copy sucks.
Yesterday I went pay my DSL bill at TEdata and I hear this guy screaming and fighting with the employee. Then, he makes a phone call and he calls TEdata "خصخصة و ضرب حكومة" And I just couldnt help but laugh my ass off about it. The guy was too angry to even look and see who is laughin at what he is saying. He was so into it that he didnt even notice me!
Gogo wrote me a song. She thought i would say that it's gay that she writes me a song. This girl is so dyke-sensetive. If such a word can exist. I wrote a poem yesterday. Then again, a "poem". Poem....poem poetry. What the fuck is poetry. It's eating my brains (lit. translated from" el mawdoo3 da byakol f rasi" hehehe.
Yesterday I took a Personality Disorder test on Tickle and guess what? It turns out that I have 10 different personality disorders. You'd better be cautious for I am schizo something. I cant remember the disease that was highest. Well that's just OK. I love personality disorder dont I. I mean, I am too happy for a person alive. Of course I have a personality disorder. How can I not have one...
Today I have to give my dad my fake grades piece of paper. Loving it.
I am a very successful person. Loving it.



So ah, yes. The poem.

Lips in Sepia

Part One: Narcissus

It is that heavy dusty frame I was looking for
It holds the portrait in sepia
With lipstick, carefully put on lips that
Tasted wine before it. Before the picture
Was taken. Before the blood- colored
Lipstick. What color is red in sepia?
Like white in the eyes of the blind or,
Even shapes in the light…
The frame, yes, the frame. The frame.
The portrait, yes, the portrait.
Glass is a liquid, water between me…
And her. Between us. Between me
And the portrait in sepia.

--------------------------

Part Two: Realization of the Today

Years ago, it is, that I realized,
My dear, that I had your picture.
But between us, shadows of life.
Between us, shadows of others
Behind me. I fell in love with your-
Lips.
Your lips.
Like mine.
Silence, when I want it.
Talk, when I want it.
Laugh when I want it,
And cry when I want to.
For you are my voice, my love.
You are my love. For when I die, dear,
You will remain. For through this glass
I see you and I see myself.
You will remain.
When I die.
You are the
Picture on the face of the river, dear.
You are my voice, my love, myself.

-------------------------------------

Whose Ego: Elephant

Whose Ego: Elephant

my inside world (V

my inside world

Interesting use of light in photography- check him out.