Losing My Emotional Virginty To Reality.

I've always been different, and not even in a cute way. Or at least it started out as not cute, then I made peace with it. The people around me however, they're not so sure about how they feel about it, or about me. Even in kindergarten, I was different. I felt older some how. Things were just more complicated in my eyes than they were to other innocent children. I'm not denying I was innocent, even though I lost some of it's enjoyment because I knew too much for a little girl my age, yet compared to now, I was innocent. Hell, I was innocent two years ago. I was innocent a year ago. Things just change, and some sort of safety has been ripped away from me.

This is not about love. It just isn't. This is about fear.

For as long as I can remember I've lived in fear. When I was a child, I feared the dark. And I feared men. When I was about 13 I feared dying alone, and I feared my mother. When I was 14 I feared confrontation, and eye contact. When I was 15, I feared public speaking and weight gain. And now I'm 17. And the fear I have now seems so different from anything I've felt before. I don't know how to describe it, or I do, It just scares me. With this fear clinging to every particle of my being, I find myself unable to let it out. I own this fear now and talking about it could be my fear in itself. But I have no other choice, If it's all I think about, then it's going down on paper, just like I've done before.

On 9/4/2008, I lost a person that meant more to me than I ever realized. I would spend time around him, and not with him. I would laugh at his jokes, but would never engage in a conversation with him. He always made me smile but I never tried to let him know. I could hear him but I would rarely ever listen. That person, was my uncle. I've spent more days in the same apartment with him than I have with my own father. And he doesn't know what he means to me. And I like to believe that now that he has passed away, he will know things that he couldn't have possibly known when he was alive, but I'm not sure what to believe about the extent of people's knowledge after their death. The scary part is not his death. And the scary part is not even my own death.

The thing that scares me, and keeps me up at night, is that he probably doesn't even have a last memory of me. Because I never feared the death of my loved ones before he died. I never saw it coming, and when I didn't even attempt to believe it. Everyone told me that it doesn't look good and that they were so afraid that he'd die, but I wasn't. I laughed at them, and everything they said at that point didn't even make sense to me. I even remember laughing. I remember a lot of laughing and a lot of giggling. I remember taking pictures with my friends and I remember more smiling. But what I remember even more vividly, is standing next to his hospital bed, having the same thought over and over again. "Should I touch his hand?". He was sleeping and I watched as people hugged him, I watched the tear stains on his hospital gown grow bigger. But I just stood there. And that thought is the last memory I have of him. I did not touch his hand. I just wanted to do that "tomorrow" when he's aware that I'm there. When he's rested and he wakes up. I told my mother to take me with her "tomorrow" so I can see him when he's awake again.

There was no tomorrow. There was no tomorrow to do a thing that could have been done "today". And Everyday I go to sleep wondering what part of today I've pushed to tomorrow, and when I remember something I find my self unable to sleep out of fear. Fear that if I sleep, Tomorrow would come. And the problem is, most of the time, the things I haven't done today, The people I haven't called, the confession of being wrong, the hands I didn't hold, And the things I didn't notice... I can never do them all, who can?! can anyone really do that? Can anyone really live life knowing that tomorrow wouldn't make them hate today? There's always a moment when I lose my temper, and there's always someone I can't do justice. So I do what I can. I do not let my family members fall asleep mad at me. And I'd die before they walk out the door when I know something is not right. I don't care if it means letting go of my own rights sometimes, and even have them upset me and not say anything about it. I just can not deal with it. I can not wake up another morning, and realise that time's up to a game I didn't even know was timed. Hell, I didn't even know it was a game. And right now, I'm not even sure if this is how I'm supposed to be playing it. But I refuse to wake up another morning to the thought that it's finally too late. It was never too late before that day, but now that I know that sometimes it really is too late, I can't go through it again. I don't want to. And I'd rather die before I do. I love the people in my life and I know I can't hold on to them forever, but.. I just love them.

By: Eman ElDeeb


P.S. I love my girls <3

And when it gets harder, I'm sheltered in his love.. (5 March 2009)

Human beings are mostly scared of their own feelings, they are afraid because they are bound to the fact that only things they are in touch with are the only things that could hurt them, but this is so wrong. What lies beneath our many layers of flesh and what we burry deep within and refuse to show or speak of, eats us slowly at the very same time that we think we’re in control. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they're afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they're wrong. You only feel your strength in the experience of pain. As a human being you have the right to get hurt, be fixed and feel the relief in the end. You should stand up for your right to feel your own pain!

Scars are like people the uglier they are, the deeper they are. And the uglier they are the less they seek for attention. And maybe because the deeper the scar is the harder it is to see it, it’s not to be noticed at all; we’ve come to the realization that the hardest scars to cure are those which we can not see, only feel. Being a very emotional person, I know that as small the thing I’m going through could be, it puts me through a series of emotions that I know if you’re lucky in life you’d only imagine.
Maybe looking at me you can hardly tell how scarred I’ve been, for he stole my pain away. “You are the cause and you are the cure” that’s what I’ve always been telling him. I thought he could see through me and that was enough for me to fall in love with him, but he was seeing into me… all along. We’ve been through hell to finally find our way to heaven, and now we can not ask for more.

Love is not the only reason why relationships stand up and make it to forever. A human mind is just not mature enough to have this as a first thought and work on developing it. They have always been telling me that love is all about forgetting and forgiving other’s mistakes. As if that was the key behind many successful relationships and marriages, but that’s what people ONLY see. Because if you love too much and forget every mistake that also could weaken or worse, destroy a strong relationship. Love is not enough, it never is. The secret of having an everlasting relationship is to trust the one you’re with and accept his/her weaknesses or mistakes. Acceptance and forgiveness. It’s not how many times you’ve forgiven, but how many times you’ve shown understanding.

I was never scared to show him that I loved him, I knew it was strong enough it could kill me if I kept it inside, I didn’t want tender feelings to turn into feelings of rejection and pain. But it was too much to bear at some points that I had to shut up and keep it all to myself. And the times my friends pushed me to talk, I knew that it wouldn’t help much for there were no verbal outlet for my feelings, I was and still am very grateful though.
I kept it inside thinking I was in control like this, but as previously mentioned I was so wrong.
He hurt me bad, the scar seemed never-fading. He hurt me, I wished I could hate him sometimes. And the sad fact that people are to be broken in several ways hit me. It is something that nobody tells you when you’re young and it never fails to surprise you as you grow old, but in your life you see people break, one after the other and all you have to do is wonder when will your turn be or if it’s already happened. But again he proved me wrong, he was there at the side of the road, after I believed that it’s already happened to show me that he could fix me, that pieces could fit back together and that the glue could take it’s time to dry.
I’m not saying that this is the typical case scenario. Some relationships are not worth being understanding or forgiving at all, some should just be a memory that fades by time, because for a moment in your life you’d smile when you feel like crying, you’d act like you’re okay when you’re falling apart inside and you’ll let things go because it’s the only way to experience your pain and let things go. You’d test your strength as well, because it is of ultimate maturity to put it together when everyone would understand if you fall apart.

What I’m saying is that being understanding, accepting and forgiving in the end is what saves the day, for it gets harder than this. Somewhere another person is experiencing the same exact feeling you’re going through and someone would consider themselves lucky if their pain could only be compared to yours. All you have to do is to be able to tie a string of recognition to your pain and nurse yourself back to a happy existence, and if you didn’t, someone who understands certainly will.

I accepted, understood and forgave, and he was the one. The one who doesn’t mind if I wear shoes or sneakers, wear jumpers or designer tops, would show me off to the whole world even if I’m just out of bed, the one who will guide me back to his heart when I lose my way if he let me lose it in first place. The one who’d be there to tell me “it’s alright” when he could say “I told you so”.

Love was just a word until he put it to definition; the best will always be yet to come :)


by: Nesma Nafea

P.S: I love my girls <3

C'est La Vie (6 Feb. 2009)

Okay, before I begin writing, I should probably describe how ridiculous I look right now. I’m in my black jeans and my fluffy sweatshirt, with my geeky glasses and my freshly washed hair in a braid, and I’m singing Avril Lavigne’s “My Happy Ending” with a voice that might be capable of breaking glass.

Now I’m glad I got that off my chest. So, yesterday morning I wanted to write something for my new blog. Millions of ideas were flowing inside my head with lightening speed. I expected my fingers to hurt from typing too much, but here’s the funny thing: I opened a word document, opened iTunes, and waited for my fingers to start typing, and they didn’t. I just stared blankly at the even blanker screen and then turned off my computer and walked away. Probably because I was too busy wondering exactly how disastrous that day would be. I was wrong, it wasn’t disastrous, more like catastrophic. You see, yesterday was one of the few times in my life when I suffered from heartache. I almost never suffer from heartache, because I never allow myself to get too attached to somebody, but this time I just couldn’t help it, and I started thinking about him 24/7. Then, to my surprise, I realized I was most probably being played. I just couldn’t believe it. The last time I crushed on a jerk was in the 5th grade, and I had forgotten what it was like to feel so betrayed and empty inside

So anyway, I saw him yesterday and avoided him for about an hour (which was not very easy, mind you), then I ran into him just as I was about to mutter some polite Goodbye to the people I was out with. Needless to say, I cried. I cried and I hate crying. So after a few faithful friends made me feel better (Thank you for that by the way) I went home. I went straight to the television set, I just didn’t have the heart to log on to msn and talk to him. I fell for him. I fell for him. As this realization suddenly struck me, I called Pizza Hut and ordered a margarita stuffed crust pizza and took out the ketchup bottle. It was show time. It was like a scene from some stupid drama movie, except I wasn’t crying. I just watched some random movie and did the mistake of sending him a message, asking him to call me

Thank God he didn’t

So I simply listened to some aggressive songs to vent out my anger and went to sleep. So, this morning, I made myself some tea in my favorite “Munchen” mug and sat and watched the Simpsons. So, after 2 mugs of nice hot tea, some cartoons and a really hot shower, I’m happy to say I feel better. I’m not saying that suddenly I’m over the guy and everything is alright, but with time, things change. The last thing I need right now is a relationship, a few harmless crushes would do me just fine

I know you’re wondering, why is this so depressing? It’s not actually. When I think about it, last night would have fit into my imaginary sitcom PERFECTLY. For example, when I found out he was coming I raced to the stairs to leave, while a friend tried stopping me, then I found out I was running straight towards HIM so I muttered “Actually, the second floor doesn’t seem so bad after all” and ran up the stairs, into the bathroom. And I did look pretty funny, with the pizza on my lap and the amused I-can’t-believe-I’ve-made-the-same-mistake-again look on my face. And how about when I was running around the house singing “Over and Over” by Three Days Grace with my cat chasing me and trying to bite my foot? I’ll be honest, it was a riot. I have a sick sense of humor, but nevertheless, it’s still a sense of humor. At least I’m not crying my head off right now and whining about it

Anyway, I actually do have much more to say about this past week, but this post is long enough, so I’ll write it later, and now I’m going to go to have some breakfast and ask myself when the hell I might get off my butt and start studying. Till then, Ciao!


by: Mona Bassel


P.S: I love my girls <3