Samini

It’s been a long time since I had this urge to write, bare with me because I have no idea what to write and my English is rusty. So, here I am, conquering the world, getting absorbed by the load of paperwork. I forgot how it feels to enjoy the sunrise, to savor music. I hear people judgments, asking me to detox myself, to go outside, to meet new people. I hear you but you don’t matter. It didn’t matter until I heard one hell of a sentence today, the kind of sentences that come in the perfect timing : Do not try to change the situation, change your mind.

You know how you end up believing the lies you tell yourself until they become your new reality. I am a big liar to be honest, because my reality is very dull, it won’t interest you, it won’t interest you to know what I am because I am nothing, really. Even the tornado I had inside has died, I lost my taste along the way, I deprived myself of all  my essentials, remember Peter Pan recipe to live? Well, I think I grew up unlike him. However, tonight, I felt butterflies for the first time in a very long time, it’s just me, a bottle of water and Gears of war, and I am happy.

I probably won’t finish this because I had no aim, no conclusion whatsoever, I just remembered this page exists and wanted to remind it of my existence as well. Oh yes, all I am asking myself now is when will I have the courage to confront my reality? Will I be able to get the hell out of the maze I put myself in, Will I?

 

 

Advertisements

Child

Every 31st December, my father had to pay his car insurance, he’d squeeze us all in the car; by some law of nature I’d sit in the middle.. And go to Rabat, a whole different island for me at the time. Each year, we would eat in the same restaurant, drink coffee (still too young for it at the time) in the same place and walk through the same streets. Yet, each year I get too excited for that special day. If I’m lucky enough, on the way back they’ll take me to the supermarket, where I get to buy a helium balloon, Chips ( Crunchips to be more precise) and If I’m even more lucky, Dad would approve a cake.

That day was too special for me that weeks before, I told my classmates it was my birthday. Somehow they remembered, and came by to celebrate it with me. Awkward for my parents for sure, but I was happy. It’s the last memory I keep of our 31st ritual.

Last year, I spent it with my father, he was the one discovering a new land, I got to take him to a restaurant, a coffeeshop right after and walk in the streets. Funny how the cycle of life works.

But somehow this year, I am home, and we get to live out 31st a day later. We’re only three, but they’re the only two who stayed the same.

All of my posts on new year’s eve are honest, probably I get influenced by the spirit of resolutions and the whole propaganda. I laugh at myself when I remember a quote from the OC ” How you spend new year’s eve, is how you spend the whole year”. I know I won’t, I won’t be here all year long. I, and if I have to speak about resolutions, I have none this year. I just want to share my days with one person, and pick ourselves up together. But I’m happy I got to write this post tonight, I couldn’t sleep without writing it. The beauty of its conclusion is, as long as I’ll come back to the same bed, I’ll always be the same child inside their arms.

I love you parents, and I love you.

 

Kafkaesque

Restrictive writing is more creative. Give someone a white paper and he won’t know what to do with it. Give him rules and he’ll manage to produce ideas. A human starts with understanding rules, going by them and maybe if he’s lucky,  surpassing them. I say this, I say nothing.. An idea I had, to start writing poems. This white paper is damn hard without someone to brainstorm with me, and shake the dust out of my ideas.

I woke up as a bug Tuesday’s morning. I felt repulsive and unwanted. I felt oppressed by a bureaucracy that sucks my goods and gives me nothing in return. I don’t mind being invisible, it’s why I came here in first place. I knew from the beginning I came to the land of the cold where hospitality is a myth. 

I don’t mind being a stranger, I believe I was one in my own country. What I mind is being underestimated based on a cultural background. Based on racism underneath courtesy. They can’t even get over the fact you might be their equal, let along the fact you can be better than them. If you’re not their lamb, you are nothing.

I just felt.. Kafkaesque.

أتكلم ثلاث لغات، لا ادعي إتقان اي واحدة و لعل اللغة العربية أقلهن إتقانا..لم اتكبد هذا العناء؟ لأنني مؤمنة بفكرة تغير شخصيتي مع كل     لغة، و لم أخاطب نفسي يوما بلغتي الأم. إحساس غريب حقا. أحس بالنضج و التصنع.
أنا في خمود، في سبات عميق. عقلي، أو ما تبقى عاقلا منه يطفو، يرفض الانضمام إلى ما يحدث حوله. إني أدمنت على كل ما يفصلني عن الواقع. لا استطيع الاعتناء بنفسي، و حضن أمي بعيد، أنا اخترت الابتعاد عنه بحثآ عن وهم الحرية و الاستقلال. لست بناكرة جميل، وجدت هنا حضنا يضمني ولكنني في كل صباح، اذبح الحضن الذي استقبلني بتفاهاتي و لامبالاتي و سذاجتي(غبائي) وأنانيتي. صحيح هو يحبني،ولكنني ارى في حبه بقايا حب قديم لمعلمة فقدت كل مقومات الجمال.
لا يصدقني احد حين اقول انني اعاني من الاكتئاب، يقولون فقط انني فقدت المتعة في اشياء كانت ولم تعد..اليس هذا اكتئابا؟فقدان طعم التعلم و المتعة. تعذيب الروح بذكرايات كانت و لم تعد. أحاول تكوين صداقات كي احس بانني طبيعية و لكن طبيعتي او توحشي يدفعهم الى الرحيل.

Opium

It may consume a lifetime to overcome the numbing phase which precedes grasping you’re not where you belong, you don’t like where you stand, you don’t like what you have become. In the crowdedness of the day, we forget to ask ourselves, at the end of it, whether we’re still loyal to the promises we’ve once made. Worse, we fear to ask ourselves.

Rare are the souls that dare to shake the dust out of ours’. People, me non-included, rather the peer -they beautify,uglify it- than the pulp. Their words are courtesy, their attention is trickery. And that, is the true definition of loneliness. Rare are the souls that join up with you in a fragile but strong bounding, you want to consume their everything, but fear to consume their everything, and then you know,their everything can never be consumed. Each goodbye is a perfect put-on-hold and a call for the body, senses , acts and deeds to join up with the soul, and form a beautiful entity. Everything falls in harmony and makes sense. And suddenly, the world stops being such a lonely place.

It may consume a lifetime indeed..But it may consume one look from a soul to truly overcome the numbing phase which precedes grasping you are where you belong, you like where you stand, you like what you have become around him.

I am not lost, i’m on my way.

So would you take me in?