Tuesday, May 12, 2020

The Narcissist and the Empath


After about two weeks of not seeing each other, they finally met. When he first saw her, he didn't pamper her with his words made of honey as he used to. He didn't throw love petals at her feet. He actually stabbed her with his thorns made of self-loathing and manipulation. He said "What's wrong with your face?", and followed it with a laugh. They had a fight, and he cancelled their date. She felt guilty thinking maybe she shouldn't had felt angry at him for saying that. He was just making a stupid joke, like he always did. She then sent him an email. 



"I love you. But I'm scared. I'm scared of you. I'm scared of me. I'm scared of us. I'm scared of routine. I'm scared of us no longer loving each other. I'm scared of us still loving each other but not standing each other. Not being able to be like we used to when we were crazy in love with each other. I'm scared. I'm scared!
You are my everthing! Literally! You are the one who cheers me up and puts me down. You are the one who made me rethink my suicide attempts. You are the one who made me feel alive. You are the one who made me feel how being alive feels like. You are life. You are my life. You are my everything. I'm sorry if I seem crazy sometimes. That's your effect on me. You make me crazy. Crazy about you. Crazy for us. Today, I felt unattractive when you said what you said. It is important for me to feel attractive when I'm with you. To feel appreciated by you. I want you to tell me nice stuff even when I look ugly. I want you to make me feel loved. I want to revive those moments when we were crazy about each other. I want us to be like that forever. I'm scared. And I love you the way you are. But you make feel angry sometimes. And I want you to be patient with me. No one is perfect. But you are perfect for me. And I want to be perfect for you. I want to feel perfect enough for you. I love you. Love of my little deaths. Love of my life."


1/29/2019 8:50 PM



He never responded. He visited her at her place for another date. They kissed and talked and laughed. When she asked him about the email, he called her childish and told her to never send similar things again. Five months later they were officially broken up. The narcissist is still a narcissist. And the empath.. Well, here I am. 

أستقتلني حباً أم ستقتلني حزناً؟


تتسلل إلى قلبي مثل قطرة دم سبق لها أن تجولت بأعماق جسدي. تعلم ما يجول بخفايا روحي. تعلم ما يميتني وما يحييني. 

لكنك لا تعلم إلى أي درجة أحبك. 

ربما لأن بعض الكلمات التي تعلمتها من القليل من الكتب التي قرأتها لا تكفي لوصف هذه الدرجة. 

وربما لأنك في لحظة غضب تكفر بكلماتي وتصبح هذه الأخيرة دون معنى. 

وربما لأن الكلمات غير كافية.

إن كان الأمر كذلك فتذكر ذلك اليوم الذي قضيناه على الشاطئ حين حملتني بين ذراعيك كعروس بحر ثم أرسيت قبلةً على كتفي الأيسر. أتعلم انني دائماً ما أضع قبلةً على نفس المكان كلما تجردت من ثيابي؟

تذكر قبلة الوداع عندما أخبرتك أنك أنت الوحيد سوبرماني وإن لم تكن لي.

تذكر العناق الحار الذي تبادلناه بعد طول غياب وطول حرمان حين سلمتك آخر قطعة تبقت لي من روحي.

تذكر أول مرة اعترفت بمدى حبك لي. عندها شعرت انني أسعد شخص على كوكب الأرض. أن كل ذلك البكاء على فراقك والهذيان بإسمك لم يذهب سدى. 

تذكر تلك المرة التي ذهبنا فيها إلى السينما.. حينها كل ما كنت أفكر فيه هو تقبيلك بجنون وسط كل هؤلاك الناس. لكن حينها لم أكن شجاعة بما فيه الكفاية لأفعالها. 

تذكر تلك القبل التي تبادلناها فالخفاء وكل ما تمنيته حينها هو أن أجاهر بحبك. 

تذكر أنك كل ما اتمناه من هذا الوجود وأنني سأفعل أي شيء لأجل حبك. يوماً ما سأفعل ذلك الأي شيء وستعلم حينها كم أحبك. 

تتسلل إلى قلبي فأصبحت أنت الذي تميتني وتحييني. والآن بعد أن علمت سري ماذا ستفعل بي؟ أستقتلني أم ستقتلني؟

أستقتلني حباً أم ستقتلني حزناً؟

في جميع الأحوال افعل ما تشاء.. لكن على الأقل أتعلم الآن كم أحبك؟ 

03/06/2016

رسالة

إلى قارئ هذه الرسالة، 
أخبر صديقتي المقربة انني أخاف علينا من الزمن أن يتلاعب بصداقتنا. 
أخبر حبيبي انني أخاف علينا من القدر أن يفرق بيننا.
أخبر أبي انني أحبه أيضاً ولكن آن الأوان لأنقذ نفسي. 
أخبر أمي انني لست آسفة على بقعة الدم التي سيتركها معصمي على أرضية الحمام. بإمكانها أن تغيرها.
أخبر أختي انني آسفة لأنها استسلمت ولأنها أصبحت نسخة تشبه كل النسخ الأخرى. أخبرها انها يوماً ما في الماضي البعيد كانت قدوةً لي، كنت أحلم أن أصبح مثلها. لكنها اليوم هي ليست نفسها هي نسخة عن نفس أخرى وانا الآن لا أريد أن أكون سوى نفسي.
أخبر أختي الأخرى انني لست اسفة على جلب العار لهذه العائلة بإنتحاري فهذا حق نفسي علي. أنا في حاجة إلى الحب وليس لي سوى أن أحب نفسي.
أخبر أخي أنه عنيف، أنه ليس سوى مجرد رقم، مجرد دمية تستعملها قوى الشر لتحويل هذا العالم إلى ديستوبيا. أخبره أيضاً انني لا ألومه على ذلك. لكن ماذا ستخلف وراءك على هذه الأرض؟ هل ساهمت يوماً في تغيير حياة شخصٍ ما إلى الأفضل؟ لحظة! أنت بالفعل قد فعلت ذلك. غيرت حياتي أنا. العالم أكبر بكثير من أن تجد عملاً 'مسمار في حيط' وتجمع المال وتنتظر العروسة المناسبة.
كم جميلاً لو بقينا أصدقاء. أتذكر مخبأنا الصغير؟ حين كنا نسرق اللوز الذي تشتريه أمنا لصنع البقلاوة؟ أو حين نلتقط بقايا السجائر لندخن معاً؟ أو نصنع سجائر مزيفة من ورق الكراس؟ أو عندما كنا نبلل الفراش ونختبئ من أمنا تحت الكنبة ونقارن من بلل فراشه أكثر؟ وحين كنا نلعب لعبة المصارعة واتغلب عليك في كل مرة؟ ثم كبرنا لتصبح لعبة المصارعة مجرد 'طريحة' تقدمها لي في كل مرة نختلف في الرأي؟
كنت اتمنى الموت في كل مرة.
اليوم أنا مت. نفسي تمردت علي. تزاحمها نفسي الأخرى. لا أعلم من سينتصر.
إسمي وتاريخ ولادتي. مضمون الولادة. كل الذكريات. شهادة الوفاة. جميع الأوراق الرسمية انتحرت.
أما الآن لم يتبقى سوى جسدي الغارق في مادة لزجة زرقاء اللون وشفافة، وأنا أقف بجانب هذا الجسد بوجه بلا ملامح مثل ملك الموت.
أما نفسي الأخرى فهي تريد لها جسداً جديدا وروحاً أنقى وقلباً بلا ندوب وعقلاً أقل إرهاقاً.
شكراً على كل شيء.

اشتاق إليك.




اشتاق إليك. إلى أنفاسك. إلى سمومك. أتعلم أنني أتنفس زفيرك عمداً حين يستقر رأسي على صدرك؟ 

اشتاق إليك حتى وأنت بداخلي تتحكم بدقات قلبي.

اشتاق إليك حين تمتزج شفاهي بشفاهك فنصبح لوحة مائية لا عنوان لها. لا تاريخ لها. لا خالق لها. 

اشتاق إليك وإلى كلمة "نحبك" حين تقولها لي بعد أن إختلط ثقلك بروحي وجسدي بروحك. 

اشتاق إليك وكم تخذلني الكلمات ويخذلني الزمن وتخذلني الأنا..


10/08/2017

How it begun



I was drowning in the abyss of nihilism, and as the lighthouse led me to him, the island I landed on was a ghost town. The weather was gloomy, the streets empty, and the walls tall and grey. The shop signs became blurry whenever I looked at them in a failing attempt to map my way back to my ship. An old woman walked out of the night haze and started showing me around.

"As you see, there is almost nothing in here. Everything has been abandoned for years. The plants withered and the walls turned grey. He's been hiding for years and years now. He's never tried to get out. He doesn't know how it feels to be on the other side of here. To feel the sun melting on his face. To let the night breeze mix with his breath. He doesn't think he needs help. He doesn't know he needs help.

"Why is the lighthouse still here then? There's still hope. I can feel it!

"It's a trap. To deceive himself into thinking that he is not lonely. To appear to others as someone who is not alone."
As she said those words, my limbs started to feel numb, and my heart was fluttering out of my chest.
"A trap??
"No one makes it out of here alive. Not in one piece anyway."
We reached an area where we had to remove our feet. We floated from one street to another. They all looked the same. The woman kept talking but all I could hear was the sound of my heart throbbing. She was repeating the same movements every 6 to 3 seconds. We were stuck in a loop. It felt like the end of time where time never really ends.
"We are here!"
I looked the opposite way and there I saw it. A concrete house with a green roof surrounded by a barbed wire. As I walked towards it, the old woman stopped me and muttered "you have to remove your eyes now. Otherwise, what you will find inside will be too much for you to endure."
As my eyes turned white and parts of my brain grey, I felt my feet again.
"Here, I sewed your feet to your body. You are going to need them."

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

We Are Who We Are. Are You?


I think that we are all amazing each in our own way. I think that there is somebody behind everybody we see. Somebody who writes down the history of things. A history that tells why people act the way they do, think the way they think and feel the way they feel. I think that we all have stories to tell: bad stories, good stories, twisted stories, pervert stories, evil stories, inspirational stories. Even in having no story to tell there is a story. [sigh] If only people were able to tell them, and other people were able to listen... But, you know what? We are not the amazing part of us. And no. It is not the stories we tell or have never told. It is the process leading to the story. Not the climax. And not the person having it. 
It is the things we go through that make us who we are and change who we were expected to be. Till one day we wake up one morning (or one afternoon) and say "I am going to do this and that because this is what I was meant to be." Of course this is what I call a bad story, because a good story would be us waking up to say "this is what I choose to be."

Thursday, January 11, 2018

Do I really have to write a title?

Here's something. I don't know if I have loyal readers of my very humble blog. I have a fine number of views despite the fact that I do not write that much. Only 196 posts. I only blame myself, especially that I have been posting all kinds of posts under all types of themes with no one precise topic. This blog actually kind of reflects my personality. This is who I am in real life. I want everything; I want to do everything; I want to learn about everything; I want to do everything. But I only end-up having a little bit of everything. I am indecisive and unfocused. I wish I was some sort of a superhero: A superhero who can multi-task. But my life is not that bad. I have come to a point where I actually love my life. Yes! I love my life! I cannot believe myself saying this. I am very satisfied with the person I am today. I am happy with the life I am leading today. I have absolutely nothing to complain about. 
I am writing this post after watching Julia & Julie. Meryl Streep. What a magical creature on earth! She is simply phenomenal. If the characters she is playing are real, you fall in love with the characters because of her. And if the characters are imaginary, you wish they were real. Every time I watch a movie and I like a particular character in it, I wish if I could be that character in real life, and I feel like if at least I show some initiative, I can definitely be whoever the hell I want. I know I can be anything or anyone I want. But I want to be all of them. And that is the problem. Even gods can only be gods and no one else.  

Monday, January 8, 2018

A non-profit Project I Have Started. A Call for Writers-for-Humanity!



WHO WE ARE.
Write For Humanity is an independent non-profit project. By independent, we mean that this project does not (and will not accept) funds from any entity. This project starts from Tunisia with the hope of reaching people from all over the world.
WHY WE DO THIS.
Because of a news feed full of hatred, violence and discrimination, we want to create change in the current narrative. And because history and news content are being written by the power holders of discourse, we have decided that it is about time we give a voice (or a pen) to the rest of people around the world regardless of their race, religion, sexual orientation, ethnicity, gender, political affiliation, etc. We just want others to hear what you have to say.
HOW CAN YOU HELP. 
Are you tired of being a mere news consumer or a bystander while history is being written by those in power? Do you want to have a hand in changing the current narrative? Do you have a story to share? Did you go through a life-changing experience that you believe others should learn from or hear about? Is there a topic you want to raise awareness about? Do you have a message you want to deliver to all humanity? Or to someone in particular? Do you have something in mind that you believe the generations to come will need to know?
All you have to do is write us a letter addressing the rest of humanity.
Please do not forget that we want you to deliver a message of peace, love, fraternity and solidarity. We want you to share a story that helped change your life, or talk about how something or someone made you realize something important in life. We want you to help us find that common ground that unites us and not focus on the things that divide us.
Please send us the letter in Word format, so that we will be able to copy/edit it. You may send it in English, Arabic or French. If you do not feel comfortable writing in any of these languages, then send it to us anyway, and we will manage to look for volunteer translators. The book will be published in English. However, we will translate some of the letters in other languages and publish them on our website to reach out to as many people as possible.
Along with the letter, we would like it if you send us a small biography so that readers will be more able to relate to your message. If you feel more comfortable not sharing your identity, then we will respect your choice.
Here is our email address: writing4humanity@gmail.com
Please do not hesitate to send us your feedback and comments. And, if you think you can help us in any way, please do not hesitate to reach out to us. We need you!
Thank you.