السلام

أضحك, يسمعني الأطرش فيرقُص, يراه الأعمي فيرسٍم لوحة تُعجٍب الأخرس فيُغني لينام الطفل ويختفي الدخان في هواء المدينة وتدوب الدماء في بحرها. أدعي في وسط كُفري وأوعي في وسط سُكري وأسرح في الزحام. 

Train of thoughts

I don't like crying in front of anyone. Not even in front of the mirror. I can't forget what my father said because it hurt then. And it still hurts now but not as much. The way you looked at me, you like me. Or you're doing a good job pretending you do. I'm fun and I laugh and I joke and I ask where are you from but all the time I'm thinking you don't know the rage I'm hiding with that high pitch laugh of mine, do you? He looks at me and says "Oh, poor girl, you're a hundred miles away" then he turns around and leaves. Tears begin to fill right away. It has nothing to do with you, or with him, or with my father. It has everything to do with me, with the conflicts inside my head, with the questions left unanswered, with the people and their excuses and their 'I never meant to hurt you'-s and their self centered treacherous nature and the brick walls I lean on and discover they're only thin paper and how weak I am. And how strong I can be. But the way you looked at me, you like me. Or you're dong a good job pretending you do.

..

لا أريد سماع شرحك المتناهي ولكني أخشي الندم فيما بعد إذا إفتقدتك للجنة أن يمُر يوم أتمني فيه سماع صوتك الذي يزعج أفكاري الآن و أفتقد نَفَسَك المُعبَئ برائحة السجائر القبيحة, لذلك أستمع ولا أنصِت فسامحني كما سامحتك علي تقييد يداي ولو إني أعرف أن الحياة ستثبت صواب وجهة نظرك يا أبي. 

Crush

Heart is wrapped in a plastic bag. Beautiful eyes. I like you. I push that strand of hair away to see you properly while hoping I look good pushing it away. I don't like your shoes but I like the way you walk. I like your eyes but I don't like your vision. I'm thinking you'll hurt me one day or another, one way or another. You'll prove me right. I want you to come with me watch the fireworks on the sea front but then what good will I get when I run away later on. I'll run away for certain, I know myself. The way you were brought up doesn't match my upbringing. It's romantic to think we can face this together but we won't. I didn't see enough successful love stories to have hope. I don't wanna have hope and then hurt myself. It's always easier to run. Tell me what music do you listen to? See? We don't suit each other. How stupid is it to judge a person on their music taste? I don't like when you agree with me because I don't agree with myself for the most part. How do I tell you I like you but I want nothing out of this? I don't. And I won't. Heart is wrapped in a plastic bag. 

أنتَ

أُحِب غضبك وسُخطك وبقايا براءتك وبداية نضوجك وصدمتك وخيبة أملَك ,ولكِن لا أحِبُك أنت. 

غفوة

   هاجرت بخيالي لمكانٍ بعيد ولكِن مسافته كانت بأكملها داخل رأسي وكُنت أفكر في أشياء لا أذكُر منها شيء الآن ولكِني سأتذكر تفاصيلها عندما يحِل النوم علي جفوني ويبدأ عقلي يفيق ليلاً ويتركني تائهة. سافرت بعيدا عن واقعي.

    فجأة سمعت صوت إهتز له جسمي و إرتعش له قلبي وتركني، مثل أي شىء يترُكني، خائفة وهو يحملني إلي الواقع. وصَل فكري لمكان وزمان وجود جسدي لأدرك إن الصوت صدر من أبي، الذي أخشي فراقه، عندما وقعت من يدهِ زجاجة فارغة لم تتحطم على الرغم من سقوطها من على ارتفاع كبير. إكتشفت لحظتها إني أندهِش بصورة مبالغ فيها وذلك لأني أستمع بدِقة لكل صوت يهمِس في رأسي وبالتالي يتضخم كل صوت أسمعه خارجها.
   كانت أذناي بدأت في إسترجاع حاستِها السمعية, عندها أنصَت لأبي وهو يقول 'الطيبون للطيبات'.
   لا أعلم . 

Fleeting moment

Hangout, we all look good, smell fine, ordering food, cool beverages, or maybe hot drinks. Side talks, small conversation, fun, laughter, smiles, sharp shrieks, jokes, laughter, loud laughter.. freeze

Who are they? How do I know them? How did I get here? She looks so beautiful, oh my god she looks so pretty. I wonder if he admires her beauty but never tells me? How do I look like now? Is my hair messed up as always? Zoom on his mustache. His mouth is moving, I think he's talking to someone, maybe he's talking to me but I can't listen, I hear him but I can't listen. His mustache is so distracting,  it is disgusting that hair grows out of our skin, I mean what the hell? Disgusting, and there's something between his teeth, he's talking again. I don't wanna talk to him, I don't wanna listen either but I like the way his jaws move. It is so masculine. I think I hate him, I don't exactly know him. Does her beauty prevents her from crying without any obvious reason like I do sometimes? Does she trust people? How does he see me? Oh my god, why is she so ugly, her face is so tall, she looks like a fish. I fucking hate her because she hurt me last year when we were in class. I like his shirt. His shirts are always wrinkled. I think his parents aren't on good terms, it shows. I've never met them though. His mouth is moving again, now I'm sure, he is talking to me. We're all gonna die someday. Why are we laughing? Everything is subtle. Trivial. Irrelevant. And we're dressed up and shit. I don't wanna be here. It's not that I hate them, it's just that I don't know them. At all. I can hear my name again in a bored tone. Seems like it was on repeat.. 

"Yes, yes..what?"

laughter, I feel young. That was so funny. Smiles. I'm actually happy. Side talks. I love them, we're good. Laughter, loud laughter.