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.