Remarkable customers

Some customers are just unforgettable.

#1
*end of long shift, exhausted!*
me: "...is it large or takeaway?"
Customer: *didn't realize the nonsense*,"Chicken.."
me: *chuckle* "Oh god, it's a long day, isn't it?"
customer: "very!"

#2
*angry lady because her fucking burger is 1 minute late, store is absolutely packed*
*I hand her her burger and before she even grabs it she utters "That's been sitting on the stand for five minutes, it's cold n..." *she gets hold of her fucking burger, it's so hot she drops it on the counter*
Bitch continues: "I've been standing here for 5 minutes dskfjajfhjaf
me: (fantasizes about punching her in the face and feeding her the fucking burger while yelling 'FIVE MINUTES BITCH? I'VE BEEN WORKING FOR 7 HOURS STRAIGHT NOW'
*smiles instead* "would you like another one, ma'am?"

#3
*oh my god slow down Andrew (regular customer)*
Andrew, super decent 50+ year old construction worker: "hey furridah, are you Muslim?"
me: "haha, yeah Andrew I am."
Andrew: "I am too, listen to that..kolhowa allahho ahad, allaho samad...."
*he recites soorat el ikhlas skipping all the ح and equally difficult letters*
*I was so impressed and got really emotional*
"hey Andrew, don't ever change your name"

#4
*super drunk guy, 5 am in the morning, not my shift, covering for someone*
customer: "You look absolutely stupid"
Let me make that clearer. He was topless, barefoot, wearing red baggy pants, unkempt hair, tearful eyes, no sense of dimension whatsoever AND I LOOK STUPID?

#5
*I was daydreaming and I sobered up to an old man in front of me who I can tell by his body language, has been standing there for a while*
*it was a bad day, I was in one of the tense waves of homesickness*
customer: "Oh poor girl you're a million miles away"
I just cried when he left.

#6
*regular Israeli customer who knew I was Egyptian and wouldn't stop telling me how beautiful Sinai is, to which my response every time was "Yeah, it's the most beautiful spot on Egyptian soil"*

#7
*afternoon, boring shift, empty store, guy with heaps of change and coins shows up*
customer: "Can I have notes instead?"
me: "woah, are you a street performer?"
customer: "I play the guitar and sing, yes!"
me:  "are you going to write a song about me if I did?"
*His coins summed up to 113 dollars, he definitely got something special*

#8
*I work in a BURGER KING*
confused customer: "Can I have one MAC royale?"
me: "hahaha nope!"

MY FAVORITE STORY
#9
*burger is ready and he is eating in, 3 minutes until fries are ready*
me: "you can have a seat, once the fries are out, i'll serve them out for you"
customer: "okay".
fries are out, I pack them, come out of the kitchen door labeled 'staff only' which as a kid, I wanted so bad to enter (ambitious kid right there), and guess what? My boss was sweeping the floor. Now imagine with me, visualize! I maintain my pace out of the kitchen door, and while the lobby has smooth freshly swept tiles, I slide and fall off with all the fries flying and landing on my face, in front of eeeeverybody. That's my most embarrassing public fall so far. With all gracefulness, because I'm so used to falling and learnt to act normally, I get up, get back to the kitchen, fetch another pack of fries and serve it to the customer, who turns out to be so hot (OF COURSE HE HAS TO BE!!). He fights the urge to explode in laughter.
me, shamelessly smiling: "There you go, by the way, that's the hardest pack of fries I have ever given out"
customer: "oh no, please, can I have your number?"

(just a heads up, #9 fucking made my day, and I think that was his purpose anyway. I've dealt with so many people, some of them are total bitches, some are just unforgettable. As a staff, we had names for customers, especially regulars. Some of them were: 'fresh fries guy', 'one dollar cup lady', 'cappuccino lady', 'no bacon guy', 'no fries guy' and last but not least, 'cheeseburger with no cheese guy' (cheeseburger was on specials so it was cheaper to buy a cheeseburger with no cheese than to buy a normal cheese-less burger)

Backwards

  A huddle of them on fierce muscular horses fly in harmony. They ride fueled by the heartbreaking goodbyes of their loved ones before they left for a bleak unsure future. Soldiers. Knights. Armed men. Followers. They tense up, slow down, and jump off their breathing vehicles. They extract the blinding shining metals off the corpses and watch it regain warmth, gradually losing the blue veneer and radiating life. High pitch sounds of swords thrust in their cases. Grunting horses.
--
  After a lifelong of complexities, he extends his fingers brushing against his newly discovered hard muscles under his skin. He earned them. A little down the road, he trades them for innocence. His troubled aging mind finally finds peace.
--
  A gigantic black smoke slowly shrinks to one flammable point. Lots of disfigured members of living and non-living bodies integrate. You could actually observe the universe lose some of its entropy and reach higher order. An inspiring scene to watch.
--
  All your favorite music figures bunch up and form bands, album by album, their music grows more exotic and impressively appealing.
--
  They sit next to each other in the park. Exhausted after a long walk. Actually it was a very short walk, relativity is everything. Their frail postures seated on the bench. They just hang in there. He places his shaky hand on her thighs gracefully, she looks at him and smiles. They sleep next to each other, comforted by their rhythmic heartbeats that is the background sound of their lives. Gradually, the heartbeats grow lower, their lives blossom to a louder, busier, more violent version. Their extremes widen; more hopeful, more hopeless, more arguments, more passion. Out of love, in love all over again. Black and white, rarely grey. They stroll in a bar, have a drink. He places his coarse worn out hand on her soft thigh. Instincts arise as fiery as their burning cigarettes, as haphazard as its smokes, as loud and persistent as the music beat they eventually dance to. He is drunk on liquor, she is drunk on love. He looks at her, and for a moment, it's deathly silent, she is completely still in a mid-dance position frozen in time. He thinks she is everyone and everything, because at that moment she was. He tries to hold on to the thought so hard but fails. They sleep next to each other, his arms around her. She tears up silently because she realizes how she will forever need him. He tears up because he finally sees her soaking in her vulnerability, he likes to think. They feel bad for hurting each other before, they hug tight and never talk about it. Their love is so real, it has shreds of hatred.
  She's sitting in a cafe playing with sugar packets. He takes his time watching her from the glass window as he makes his way up to her. He thinks to himself, how can someone be that happy on a boring Sunday morning? She sees him, her eyes sparkle, she thinks to herself how a lifetime of friendship grows into this? He places his hand on her thighs. It tickles, but she takes a deep breath to contain herself, to contain everything.

Questions

   Ever wondered what would mannequins say had they been given the chance, after spending all that time staring at us from clear glass windows?
Can you fully digest the fact that you're not gonna run into a deceased person on a random day in a supermarket?
Are you comfortable with the fact that you're basically a blood balloon that can burst and bleed if exposed to any sharp object?
How can any man in his right sober mind have sex with a prostitute without depression taking over them?
Is liking someone reason enough to hate them?
   Ever thought about how would you come out differently if no one had ever told you that girls wear pink and guys play with guns?
   How do you feel about hair growing out of every inch of your body?
   Have you recently tasted your ear wax?
   Do you laugh at the TV, regardless of how hilarious the material is, if you're home alone?

If who we are is a collection of what we do and how we act, then what does 'love me for who I am' even mean?

How do you feel knowing that your heart is moving along with your body that's speeding with the car that's rotating with the earth?

Ever wanted so badly to put your ear right into the vacuum cleaner's sucker?

How many times did you suggest a song casually and hoped the person understands that very indirect message?

How do born-blind people conjure up images for all the vague words?
Have you ever liked someone so much that your breaths start to be painful but tickling?

Were you hurt when you were fucking thrown out of heaven?

   Are yo troubled? 

Because I am interested if you are.

بحب علاقتي بالشمس. أنا شايفاها نُقطة وهي شايفاني نُقطة ومفيش مشاكل.

Timeline

I never dreamed of you. You can't dream of a dream, can you? I wanna know what book everyone disliked but you. I will only really figure you out when I know what song everybody seems to pass unnoticed, but you think is absolutely brilliant. You're bleak. You're those lyrics I never actually understood yet I totally understand their purpose. I want you to watch sitcoms with me and feel free to not laugh out loud purposely. I go through your photos all the time. I like the fact that photos don't show if you have a throbbing migraine or maybe if the sandal cut through your foot skin, but it's not helping. Sometimes my imagination is so vivid I can feel water splashes on my face from your canoeing paddle as it hit the water but your face is a hole. It's a scribble. I tried to draw you before, you know, but you're not a painting, you're a chaotic dramatic artistic collage. I'm not myself around you. You're not yourself around yourself. "You don't know how lovely you are", you sing along and I have to remind myself you're not singing for me. I liked you, waited for you, got stood up by you, all in my head. Now I am angry at you but I can't keep that in my head, it is real. I'm gonna cry weeks from now because you were totally singing for me. You're so unromantic that there's something romantic about everything you do. I'm always caught up between thinking I deserve much better and I am not good enough for you at the same time. I fall in love fast. Good sense of humor. Heartfelt piece of writing. Thoughtful gesture. I fall out of love even faster. One word. Keep me from stretching my thoughts so far. Bear your fucking soul to me and I'll re-read my favorite book, underline my favorite parts, leave a dried lily between the pages and put it over your one-way train ticket. I'll even go ice skating with you so we can fall side by side while skaters revolve around us. I cut myself on your broken pieces and you didn't even wipe your mess. I'm sorry, I'll have to chainsaw the tree down just under our carved heart enclosing our initials. I hate you. I hate you in a very flattering way.

  I'll wait alone for my pedestrians' signal on one side of the road. I won't cross the streets with you hand in hand making way through the flying cars.You wouldn't believe me if I told u it was raining like crazy on my way home but I miraculously did not get wet. I wouldn't believe you if you were on your knees. Not with tears in your eyes. Not with a convincing tone. I wouldn't even believe it if you punched me so hard while saying it and held me tight while the impact erupts and delves into me. While I take in the reality of it. And the throbbing pain. And the temporal suffering. And the resonations. 

But maybe, maybe then I'll believe you.

Dear David,

     I am writing to your existence. I am writing to the guy who wakes up with unkempt hair and hums with gravelly voice as sunshine penetrates his foreign irises. I am writing to your skin, breath and flesh. I'm writing to my friend with no chains, grudges, trails, DNA, history, last names or bloodlines.

   That's the thing with love, you always want to be a hero and to fix the fucked up guy and to overcome religious beliefs and to look beyond histories and wars and massacres. Here's the thing with love, you can't. 

   A list of things I hate: politics, suited up dictators, blood on asphalt, whole orphaned cities, children who were robbed of their innocence, obeying soldiers without a choice, wars, leaders who carve their names in history books by giving orders from the comfort of their offices, I hate your ancestors, I hate you, David. Because that's what I am supposed to feel without a choice as well. You see, we're soldiers too. And above all, I hate the circumstances. 

   Dearest David, I've never thought I'd be sending a letter without an address. I love you, but I hate your government. If it makes you feel any better, I hate mine too. 

                                                                                                                                             Farida

Asshole

He sneaked in.
He bent down and picked the most beautiful rose.
I liked him.
I liked him with no butterflies. I liked him because he was there. I liked him because I did not dislike him. I liked him in a really cold way.
But I liked him.
He scratched off his linings.
He wrapped himself in a cold steel coating.
He got himself walls all around him.
All his rose petals were 'He loves me not' petals.
Asshole.

عَورة

لا أحِب أي شَخص بما يَكفي للمَوت مِن أجلهِ. أحِب نفسي أكثر.

لا أنتمي لبلَدي بما يكفي للموت فداءً له. فإنه دائماً يبدو وكأنه موطني وليس وطني.

لا أؤمن بعقيدتي بما يكفي للموت في سبيلها.

وأخيراً لا أحِب من يختلِف معي في ذلك, لا أحِب الملائكة, لا أحِب من هو أفضل مني, ولا أحِب الكذِب.

أحِب الحقيقة والناس الحقيقية. 

To every guy I used to like

 I swear I could spend all day sitting like that watching you watching me then go home and stare at myself in the mirror trying to figure out why do you look at me that way.

 To that time when you pushed me to say what's wrong with me and I blurted it out angrily and hesitantly to get rid of your nagging only to realize I wanted to let it out for once. To the coldest guy out there who managed to utter the sweetest words only when needed.

 You've got the hungriest eyes I've seen on a decent guy. And you're not even decent.

 You're good to the core. Could have been a great best friends-gone-all-romantic but you're stupid.

 You're ground. If I asked you 'do you prefer blue or green?', you'd reply 'blue'. Today, tomorrow and forever, it's blue. But I prefer green. And I liked you for your non-volatility and I lost interest for the very same reason.

 You've got the most beautiful mind. I never really liked you, you know because you're kind of imaginary, but I never stopped liking you as well. Exactly the mind I'd like to watch its attached face develop wrinkles on the other side of my bed.

To the guy I like now:
 You're the idea of ... I'd probably write something huge then read it months from now and laugh bitterly so I'll refrain. I'm just waiting for you to let me down and fade out, leaving a new addition to To every guy I used to like.

Try not to.
I know you will, anyway.

I am beautiful

If you look at my naked side view, you’ll find a skin fold just under my last rib that I despise. 

If you pay attention to my nose, you’ll realize it gets bigger in a funny ugly way when I laugh. Or even smile.

If you look at my skin closely, you’ll find all the scars from the scratched mosquito bites and hot oven door burns. 

And my unwanted body hair, my obvious facial pores, my childish hands, my skinny wrists, my dark appalling knees. 

To count a few.

But I am beautiful if you say so.

Wellington, New Zealand.

  The windiest place on Earth. I don't think that's an overstatement, I mean elders used to hold on to light posts for the couple of seconds when it went crazy. I lived there for almost five months. The city is so beautiful it's kind of depressing. It is so picturesque that you always think it is unreal, that something is missing. Its beauty was so overwhelming that my profound admiration slowly changed to apathy and blindness to the natural magical scenery. I'd always find my eyes lingering on artistic graffiti on walls or any form of man-made contribution. And that's what people there did, they all had a very genuine style considering their clothes. Everyone had strange haircuts, and weird hair colors. A lot of green, blue, violet, red and rainbow heads. A lot of punks around, street performers, random citizens dancing to their music. Quarter of the population wanders the city barefoot. People go grocery shopping in pajamas and I've seen a few shopping in just their swimsuits. Plenty, plenty of gays. It almost became common to me seeing men in heels, nail polish and wearing full make up and I wouldn't flinch if two girls kissed on the bus. The individuality was loud and clear. People made out in the streets, romantically and sometimes explicitly.

  That city witnessed a lot of my 'firsts'. First time to cook, first time to stay the night alone, first time to feel horribly homesick, first time to miss chaos and noise, first time to work, first paycheck, first bicycle tour in a city, first public bus ride, first jog in the streets, oh, they're countless.

  I remember feeling chained when I first arrived. Like why the hell am I supposed to press a button, wait for my pedestrians signal to cross a goddamn one-lane street? That's of course normal since back home, I used to cross a four-lane highway with the sole help of prayers. I remember feeling like I'm the basic model of a human being, like way too normal for Wellingtonians, like they call themselves. I wear my hair in a normal pony tail, I wear jeans, I rarely ever wear anything but normal black eye-liner. Just a normal girl, very basic, no bizarre hair-do, vintage clothes, astounding tattoos or any of the likes. Just me, which was very unique to them apparently. I mean if you walk into a circus backstage in your denim with all the performers, freaks, artists, illusionists and extraordinary people around, you will feel odd.

The suicidal rates were relatively high. Like I said, it was so beautiful, kinda depressing.
I remember thinking 'oh, that's how it must feel if I ever walk into Tumblr'. 

.يمرؤ شيخ أمامي مُجَعَد الوجه, إبتسامته صادقة تُظهر ما فقد من أسنان, شائب وسعيد كما لو أنه لم يعِش يوم وفاة أمه

.يضحك وهو يستند علي عصاه. وهو وحيد. وهو هزيل. وضعيف. ومريض

.يركضون علي مواصلاتهم

.المدينة حزينة

Did you see how the birds scatter when I set foot on the earth?
You should've seen how the birds scatter when I set foot on the earth.
I am a princess.

‏إلي اليوم قبل إكتشافي أن أبي رجلٌ يبكي ويُخطئ ويُهزَم.

إلي اليوم قبل إدراكي أن حديقة الحيوان مكان يبعث الحُزن في ‏الَنفس. 

إلي اليوم قبل تساؤلي لماذا جئِت للُدنيا بدلًا من كيف جئِتها.

إلي اليوم قبل وعيي بجميع الاحتمالات.  

إلي اليوم قبل ‏دراستي بجغرافيا الأرض وهتلر والأمراض العضوية و النفسية.  

إلي اليوم قبل أن ألتزِم بآداب الطعام و أتعلم الصلاة. 

‏إلي اليوم قبل ان ألاحظ إن كلمات الأغاني تحمل معاني وليست فقط مجموعة من الكلمات المتناغمة الراقصة. 

إلي اليوم قبل‏ معرفتي بأي فِرَق أخري للبشر سوى 'جميل' و 'قبيح' 

إلي اليوم قبل إن أكذب أول كذبة.

إلي اليوم الذي كنت أدخن فيه قلمي الرصاص ‏وأخاف صفير الهواء من فتحة نافذة غرفتي وأركض في طرقة البيت عندما أغلق مفتاح النور وأجاوب علي سؤال 'من ستتزوجين؟' سريعا في براءة ب 'أخي'.

lift

I think pictures of graffiti on walls or doodles on the insides of a train are much more beautiful than pictures of nature and its breath-taking scenery.
I think people should tell each other everything they think or feel like saying in the heat of the moment. Like 'hey, you stink' or 'I think you're an asshole' or 'I like you but don't ask' or 'this is so awkward'.
I think that life is so beautiful, even though I know about all the wars, blood, sexual harassment, injustice, natural disasters and death, but I still think it's so very beautiful in every way and on every level.
I think all people believe in God but some are just too arrogant to admit, all except very few.
I think bodies are ugly and I think sex is the most honest act.
I think about how many cancer patients, ex prisoners or killers I randomly cross paths with everyday.
I think about your life, your dreams, your goals, your partner and how your love faded when I'm stuck with you in the lift.
And I'll smile at you and you'll think 'that's the girl next door' and yes, I am the girl next door except I'm not really.

بوست بالغلط

في ناس بتعبد البقر, وبيوقفوا الطريق وكدة لما بقرة تعدي. هاهاهاهاها حاجة مضحكة جداً

مبدأياً كدة, أنا الدين بنسبالي زي مُعظمكوا بظبط, حاجة إتعلمتها من وأنا صغيرة وكبرت معايا بقت جزء مني. أنا مش دارسة أديان ولا حتي قارية في الموضوع عشان اتكلم وأتناقش بس أنا عايزة أتكلم فحاجة بسيطة جداً بتضايقني مننا خاصة بعد ما عِشت آخر 7 شهور في حياتي في مجتمع مش متدين زي مجتمعنا (بس عندهم أخلاق مش زي مجتمعنا) وإتعرفت علي ناس من أديان ومعتقدات مختلفة. قبل ما أبدأ, البلوج دة أنا بدخُل أسهتن فيه, محدش يتخض يعني من بقية البوستس. 

أة في ناس بتعبُد البقر ودة شيء مش مضحك خالص يعني ولو حتضحك, دة بيدُل علي عدم إحترامك تماماً لفكر ومعتقدات شريحة كبيرة أوي من البشر. علي فكرة أنا ممكن أتريأ علي معتقداتك ودينك برضو عادي. زي ما الراجل الدنماركي عمل كارتون بيصور فيه محمد عليه السلام بإنه مزواج وقفشنا أوي وقاطعنا الدنمارك (إسبوع؟ شهر؟ شوكلاطة كيندر؟). عادي ممكن أوقفك كدة وأقولك يعني إيه يعني البحر إتقسم نُصفين وأفطس على روحي من الضحك. أو مثلاً هو مين بظبط ربنا, الأب ولا مريم ولا عيسي عليه السلام؟ أو أو القرآن دة شعر مكتوب. ببساطة كدة, الدين مجموعة من المُعجزات الخارقة للطبيعة وإنت مشوفتهاش بس مؤمن بيها. إنت شُفت عيسي علية السلام وهو بيتصلب؟ كنت مع محمد عليه السلام برضو في غار حراء؟ إيه دليلك إن الإسراء والمعراج حصل؟ يبقي تسكُت. 

معظمنا (كلنا إلا 3 مثلاً) لو إتولدوا لأم وأب أي دين تاني مكنوش حيبقوا ينتموا للدين اللي بيؤمنوا بيه وبيتحمقوله أوي دلوقتي. انا شخصياً لو أبويا كان مُلحد كنت حبقي ملحدة عادي (يا رب أطلع غلط) (علي فكرة الملحدين برضو ما شافوش البيج بانج ولكن دة إعتقادهم وهما أحرار) (نداء بس للملحدين, بطلوا شُغل إحنا أذكي ناس وجيبنا الديب من ديله دة :D) ساعات بحاول أقرأ كُتُب وأدوّرعلي حاجات زي إن لو إبتسمت لحد أو شلت حاجة ممكن تكعبل حد من الطريق ,تاخد حسنات وبعُدها أقول والله ديننا برنس, كان ممكن أختاره لو أنا أصلاً متولدتش مسلمة (دة عشان أريّح ضميري) (أنا متأكدة إن فيه حاجات في المسيحية صغيرة بتديك حسنات برضو وإنت بتقراها بتقول الله دة الدين مش مُعقد أوي أهو وبرنس برضو وكنت عايزة أقول نموذج عشان مبقاش بتكلم علي الإسلام بس, بس مش عايزة أفتي)  

في النهاية أحب أأكد علي إن أي حد بيُعبُد أي حاجة أو حتي بعيد عن الدين, أي حد مصدق فأي حاجة اوي وبيحبها فعلاً, لازم تحترم دة فيه. إن كانت الحاجة دي نادي كورة متعصبله أوي (خنقونا ببرشلونة ومدريد) أو شخصية بيمشي وراها (أي حد غير أبو إسماعيل) (بهرج, إنتوا أحرار, بس سيريوسلي؟) أو دين هو تابع له, متصغرهاش ولا تحُطها محل للهزار حتي ما بينك وما بين أصحابك. مش صح. ومفيش أي دين بيسمح بكدة.

في واحد علي تويتر مرة كتب تويت بحبها أوي, هو إسمه @sarcasmad (إعملوله فولو, مضحك جداً) قال فيها

"عمري ما فهمت إنزعاج شخص من دين اللي جمبه ...يا سيدي لما يبقي يعزم عليك بالإله بتاعه إبقي قوله ميرسي ربنا يخليك!"

(ودة لينك للتويت لو حبيت تعملها رتويت, أنا بحب العدل https://twitter.com/Sarcasmad/status/245920658956111872  )

أة في ناس بتعبُد البقر. وبيوقفوا الطريق لما بقرة تعدي. حاجة عظيمة جداً. 

وَقُل رَّبِّ ارْحَمْهُمَا

أُحب أحَدَهُما أكثر لكني أخشي فُراق الآخَر.

فإذا ماتَ الأوَل, سأنتهي.

وإذا ماتَ الآخر, سأعيش أتمني الإنتهاء.
ذلك أصعَب. 

every time

  Chuckle. They're funny. Or they seem to you that way. Normal boy girl attraction. You take the salt shaker and pass it over the table with your loud friends' banter and they grab it form your hand. The shape of their hands. Sexual tension. Locking eyes. Late night chats. Very indirect admiration. Perfectly concealed jealousy. Unspoken rules set. Infinite conversations. Pounding hearts. Minutes staring at phones. Heart skipping a beat when receiving a notification and it's from them. Heart skipping a beat when it's not. Talk. Joke. tease. Flirt. Know. Argue. Discuss. Grin. Dream. Daydream. Make excuses. Smile into the nothing. Over-expect. Pause.
  You wait and wait. You really wanna run and ask and call but pride. Music. Doodles. Imaginary dialogues. Anxiousness. Forgive them? Forget it? Give them the benefit of the doubt? Not working. Blame them. Nervousness. Can't complain because you were never really a thing. Were you? Weren't you? Re-reading messages. Re-living moments. Again, music.
  Try to subside it. Remember it every now and then. Smile into the nothing. Smile fades quickly leaving bitter trails. You cope. You move on. At last, you're okay. You're fine. You're good.


 Then they show up.
With no signs. They show up after a million seconds with a casual 'hey'. No, you don't show up after a million seconds with a casual 'hey'. 

Me, receiving a heartfelt compliment

"haha, thank you. I'm really bad at this but thanks, it means a lot.."*

*you know what, you actually made my day. I woke up searching for my coffee mug which I couldn't fine anywhere even though I live alone in a room, I mean where can it possibly be?I don't believe in ghosts. I smiled at the guy in the lift and he went all grumpy on me. People get on my nerves sometimes. Like that guy I crossed while jogging with a Marlboro T-shirt on. He's probably going all animal rights but switches TV channels when it's the news about other humans across the globe. Ugly schizophrenic world. Then later today, I read an online article about the doubts in the existence of God so I thought to myself while studying physics, which I'm failing tomorrow by the way, how every action has equal and opposite reaction, how energy can't be created or destroyed, and  how your life can never be equal to a war soldier, an orphan, a serial killer or my friend who recently died young in a car accident. There has to be an afterlife for the equation to balance, a creator, a doer, which brings us back to my coffee mug that I found sitting in the most obvious place when I got home today. How can we not see things that are right in front of our eyes the whole time? Anyway, I had a long bad day and you made it up for me. Thank you.

blank

I came here to write something about you. I was hoping it's gonna be something with really simple words, you know, like a hazy beautiful scenery kinda picture as a background with my handwritten simple words all over it. Nothing is coming out but I want you to know I wanted to write about you anyway. I don't know.

Dimensional kisses

where the heavy grocery bags left their finger tips blue while they carried them back home lonesomely.
 where they were groped.
  where the sandals cut their skin.
   where the jeans waist carved itself on their bodies.
    on their eyebrows, upper lip and underarms where it hurt for you.
Don't just press lips.

Things that made me momentarily genuinely happy today:

•   Today, I forgot my ruler in my lecture so first thing that came in mind was my student ID card with its sharp edges to use instead, only to notice that about three random guys in the rows ahead of me were already ruling with their cards. Dress differently, fight, have tattoos all you want, underneath we're the exact same. 

I can't think of anything else.  

Stains

Younger me used to cry when I accidently spill something on my favorite dress because it's ruined forever. Now I just take it as an excuse to cry my whole day out, and strip naked from all the suffocating clothes and the formalities and the pretending and stop eating and question what have I been doing with my life for the last six months and if I will ever meet someone that will go casually like "You know what, I used to think that if you stained the whole piece of cloth, then problem solved and mom won't notice" and I would say "OH NO? me too" and then I'd laugh the whole day out instead. 

Flat words

The cruelty of a lion's incisors tearing a deer's flesh as it closes its eyes forever just after a free tear escapes in a harshly beautiful Africa where women dance and men beat big drums and children die of hunger.

The surreal hazy world in the eyes of lovers as they wander the streets oblivious of anything but each other with bare feet and young white graceful limbs moving eagerly and happily, licking ice cream and tilting their heads backwards to laugh.

The waves crashing on a rock and splashing proudly in all the directions as small droplets before falling into the big mysterious sea, losing their identity and becoming a part of the whole again.

The beauty of a beautiful girl who doesn't know it with her messy hair and a-little-to-the-left ponytail and layer of fat around her precious body and her fresh face and her playful dress hem that dances with the wind showing her slightly thick bluish-white thighs.

The tight grip of a baby's tiny fingers on his mother's clothes.

The planets revolving repeatedly and hopelessly around the sun while the long dead stars still sparkle in the pitch dark sky.

The sincerity in a dog's eyes and the way it stretches its neck when its owner pets it.

The temporarily freedom the skater boy feels with the air slapping him in the face while he fights the urge to scream his heart out till he loses his voice.

The sick smile of a famous politician on a worn out poster hung on a wall that is the shelter of a crying child from the bombs and the guns and the tanks and his father's killers.

The confusion of a troubled guy after observing a small white plastic bag twirling freely in the wind until his eyes tear up.

The drugs and the children and the blood and the slanted-eyed people and the animals living in packs and the coffee aroma and the books held and read by many and the cancer and the bicycles and the wars and the ice creams and the anger and the bathing suits and the broken hearts and the shattered glass and the juicy burgers and the gloomy sky and the inhumane governments and the florescent lights and the galaxies and the loners, I miss you.