I plucked your heart out the same way you pluck flowers and it was beautiful but unloving, useless, dead.



I’m currently not in the mood to do anything that’s worth anything. I like reading and traveling. I love movies and T.V Shows and music. I love make-up because it’s like art for the face. I used to Dance, still do sometimes, but it’s too hot, we’re short on electricity and i’m afraid of taking a shower in the dark. I don’t wanna go to the beach because it’s so vast and deep and makes me feel lonelier than i already am. I hate the sticky residue it leaves on my skin. I wonder about the salty smell of the sea that everybody likes when i’ve always thought it resembled the smell of rotten fish. My bra is killing me and making me feel trapped all the time. I hate all the underwear i have to wear so i can look good in a tight dress. I hate the glowy look of summer that seems more like sweat. There’s too much sun and not enough moon where i live and i don’t ”feel” as much as i’d like to ,it’s depressing the hell out of me.

سنموت جميعا علي اي حال

سيعيش الانسان حياة سعيدة لو فعل ما يريد بدون ان يفكر في ردود افعال الناس من حوله. سيتزوج الفتي من تلك الفتاة الجميلة التي حسدها الناس لحريتها فشوهوا صورتها فكان جمالها نقمة و ابتلاء. سنرقص علي موسيقي مزامير السيارات في الشارع بدون سبب. سنلبس ما نريد و نغني ما نريد و نقرأ ما نريد والاهم نحب او لا نحب كما نريد فالحرية حلال. ستظهر حقيقة اخفاها مجتمع يحتقر الاختلاف و التميز و يحب النسخ الأليه التي تشبه عجينة الصلصال التي كنا نلعب بها عندما كنا صغاراً. ألم تتعجب يوما عن سبب ولعك بالصلصال؟ ألم تولع به لأنه كان عبداً لانبعاجات كفك! ألم تشعر بالقوة عندما مال و تشكل بامر من حركات اصابعك! لقد اصبحنا جميعا صلصالاً في يد مجهولة و لكنها معبوده. يد لا و جود لها الا في ذهون فقدت القدرة عن التفكير و لكنها تُبجل كالألهه. و يأتيك الذهول و الاكتئاب من كل جهه عندما تكتشف انك تعيش في مجتمع يخاف اللا شيء.

Even though i couldn’t understand

Look back to the child you once were and you’ll understand the person you are now. i used to be a nuisance to my sister, always urging her to read me a story, i loved the tragic ones most, i loved the pain even though i couldn’t understand it much. It was a foreign emotion for a 4 year old child, pain was a cut you’d get from tripping over a sidewalk, this constriction in the heart was much more powerful it consumed you from inside out, it was fiery and powerful. I loved it, i loved the intensity. I loved the tears it brought to my eyes, i loved the kindness it brought in people’s eyes, The honesty of the emotion was addictive, truer and a 100 times more powerful than any other. I was instantly hooked.

Short story #1

She stayed in bed all day, mesmerized by a book she’d started reading, a book she couldn’t afford, a book she didn’t have to afford. at night she dreamed of her favorite virtual world, one that lies between two hardcovers, one that lies between the lines of a collection of words and verbs and she fell into a dreamless sleep, for she never seems to remember having any.