On Olives and Sake

I smash the phone on the stupid wall, I grab my head, and weep neurotically for 5 minutes, then i get back up. walk, sit, walk again.. look at pictures, read news, look at my open books, remember the slum i’m in, I feel my legs cramping, my fingers contracting, I lay my head on that wall, that I hate so much, I wish I can die, the I feel stupid, I feel weak, I feel so fucking caged in this 4×3 room/cell. I hate the walls, I hate the opened books with the words I’m supposed to know, I hate my needy fucked up system.
When did I turn into this neurotic shit, when did I start hiting my to walls, I need to fucking scream, isnt there a place in shit shithole where I can scream.
I feel like a 4 year old child, the same stupid meaningless stuff make me jump off my feet happy, and other stupid small hings can make me weep.
When does it stop, when do I “adapt” to the space, the language, the distance and whats beyond the distance, whats derived from the distance, what prolongs the distance…
Ten days ago, I was happy, I was sad, I was leaving in hours, but I was in peace, I had everything I’d need, I had everything I wanted, I was ready to come back, or so I thought, now I’m back to that same old spot, with the same boring,I might add- repeat of the same fucking routininc neurotic me.
few people back home have seen neurotic me, I didnt need to be, or thats how I see it now. only in extreme situations where I cant do anything except being neurotic… here it seems every single day is an extreme situation, exery single phonecall, every single night, I need to dream about good stuff, I donno who does that, but whatever u are, the son of a bitch upthere that makes dreams, I HATE U. I FUCKING HATE U.
I’m back to the phone, I dial the same number, this time someone answers… we talk,
And exactly like it happens in the movies, when that someone puts his hand on a crazy person, I sit back, quietly.

I hate this me. I hate it, I hate it so much for what its doing, for how he makes me live…
Now, I’m crying, like normal people do.

I promise myself that it will be different tomorrow, I’ll try harder, it’ll be better, at least it’ll be different, I’ll have school all day, I wont have time to be neurotic, but…

[When I posted this, I took a look at my archives, an I realized that I've never felt this way, I was never this helpless. It's shocking, it's fucked. But, That's exactly how it is today, maybe it's just an extra fucked up day... Maybe tomorrow WILL be different...]

The last time I tried to write a post, was at early morning on the 28th of July, My first dawn there in Cairo, on the crossroads of Africa, The Nile and The Mediterranean…
I couldnt, I was overwhelmed with a feeling, a mix of Happiness, Ease, Peace and Surrender.
I couldnt write about that feeling.

The story starts 5 years ago, or maybe 20 billion years ago [classic but very true]…

Last month, I surrendered myself to a world of extremes. Step by step, slowly but steadily I surrendered myself to that place – human – lover – belief – idea – dream.

I was shaken to my bones at every moment with a flood of contradictive but extreme feelings, at every single moment. it was a stimulating, brain straining month.

The amount of memories, flashbacks I have of that month, is maybe more than I have of my whole last 18 years.

I donno what more can I write about her,
My Fairy Tale?
My “She”?
Me?

My language fails me, falls short, cries, chokes and bleeds, and can only rattle out “B7ebbek 2ad ma 2albi w 2lbek besa3u 7ob”…

between the restless TV, tuned on to al-Jazeera and Manar all day, or Muhammed Mounir in the background of everything we did, even if we didnt really hear it, or the delicate details of her skin, in a month, I saw Earth revolving around 2 persons, 2 becoming 1? no, becoming 3, more than 6 billions… I could swear that I felt Earth, The Sun, The Milky Way, All, revolving around “us”.

رقصة شهية هي الحياة

للعشوقية والمعشقة
مرة فمرة حلمك هواك
يملى الدنبا بالزقزقة

ويبقى الحلم صورة وصوت
لو بطلنا نحلم نموت

حبة صبر حبة حماس
يبقى الحلم صورة وصوت

لو بطلنا نحلم نموت
لو بطلنا نحلم نموت
لو بطلنا نحلم نموت
لو بطلنا نحلم نموت

The last msg i got before i checked in my passport at Cairo Airport, was from Maad, he told me to “keep staring in her eyes, u’ll miss them”

I do.