A Message from within

Some people manage to turn everything special into a practical one then blame you for it. Some people manage to be selfish and then accuse you of that. Some people decide know exactly what they want and just bet on your flexibility and stupidity for the lack of any better term. Some people will just drag you along convincing you that their dreams are actually yours and your own dreams are subject to discussion. I now know where I will end. I see it. Surprisingly unable to take a real step and be serious about it.

I am disappointed. In many things starting with myself. This is who I wanted to be when I was growing up. Now I am rapidly changing into an ordinary person. Nothing special about. I used to be special. I used to be gifted. Now I am lame. Bit by bit transfering into a neutral, passionless person. I struggle to keep my identity but seems and feels that the subtle yet strong wave that sweeps and controls me is really getting into me. Under any name or purpose, I feel I am being dragged to places and things that are not me. That I never approved. That is not me. And for that I am angry. And powerless.

I write there. I hide it. I use it to scribble. To take notes. To finish up what is entangling me and cut loose of it. I can not. Unable to. There are lots of things there. Making bigger knots. And sophisticated issues. Unable to resolove it. With myself first. Then with the other or others. I am unable to speak up. To open up. To say where is the pain. Where I am hurted. What are my concerns. I really can not speak up. Some issues are way deeper to talk about it. It needs more opening up. More clarity. I need to be able to feel free to talk and be sure I am well recieved. I am not. Unsafe. Insecure. Suffocated. Scared. Seeing myself pushed aside to give way to something else. But not particularly balanced. I feel I am losing it. Being stepped over. I do not like that. Especially if I am unable to speak up. There is a core issue. It is pyscological. Cant get over it. I need help.

It suffocates me here. I feel as if I am in a prison. Unable to move or do any action. Everything is so small and squeezed. I have to always be pretending. I am not engaged by any means. I draw this smile and pretend I am interested. I am not interested nor smiling. Nor wanting to be here. I just want some space and some distance. It is so different from what I like and what I enjoy. It is even so far from it. Everytime I go there I am turned ooff. I get kicked out of myself to a large distance. It is so uncomfortable to me. I am someone else. And I am sure it shows on my face that I am not interested. I crave some piece and some space, physical and mentally. We are engaged in weird conversation. I so not connected to it. It is not that I want to talk about some sophisticated things. I just want to be interested. Its either revolved around the kids present in the setting. Or a talk about a kid that is travelling or about some prejudgement opinion. I literally don't have anyrhing to

Islamic museum. Parking garage. Customized. Inside a building and a mall. Not by any means close in shape or essence to the capital of cairo, city stars. Nor the empire states of the nile, nile city. Just an easy miss parking. In fact, an apartment building changed to be a parking. I am not sure where we parked. Living room or bedroom. Wish I knew. We went to take the elevator. A typical middle class man. Not sure middle or lower middle class. Just a real man from this old time. He was not old. Late 40's maybe. He entered with us and the whole elvator smelled. I inhaled the aroma and I smiled. There was this deep armoa of 'leb'. Seeds. He was 'az'az' leb probably on his way to the elevator and he simply filled the whole elevator with that smells. This smell took me back decades. To the slightly disappearing 'tasaly' shops. This little but famous shop next to the church in heliopolis. Overlooking the metro. The small bazar that sold leather sandals that I

It might be a fear. A fear from getting drifted somewhere. To this remote area where you find it hard to hit a home run. It is spacious and neat. Maybe full of life or maybe not. I can not quite decide for that matter. I swing between this thought and the other. In sparks of realization, dreams and hopes. I try to moderately calibrated for the variation. Not successful at it so far. Again, not sure if I enjoy the swings but at least am aware of it. Can not deny that I am very lazy with it. With finding its real cause. I maybe know and sometimes touch on it, but it seems to be a little farther than I want to dig at this time. I do not know why though. You know when there is a deep nostalgia that scavenge in these areas that are the most tender. It does not bleed though. Leaves no scars. Only untraceable pain. Haunting you. Associated with every deep smile or laugh or feel of love. As if it is a reminder of some sort. A ghost from the medieval time that is wearing a black head gear. Pret

I am. Something is not clicking. Is not working. Is missing. What it is? I do not know. But there is something that is creeping there. Hidden. Can not be detected in the midst of all the details and the happenings. Does not make sense when exposed. As if it enjoys being hidden in my feeling. A line that sews all the events and knit all the different cadres of this movie. I have no clue what it is. Is it me? Or is it me? Because the other does not seem to be aware of it. Or maybe denying it? Or it might be that I detect it first and then energetically turned it into a reality that casts its shade. It is then that the other will acknowledge its existence. By then? I dont know if I will be there when this happens. I am. From waiting for her with a no showup. Accomodating this attitude that never got approved. Accepting the fakeness and self centered connection. It is not hidden to both of us. Nor is it apparent to both of us by the same degree. It swings between realization and denial. De

It has been so long since we met. It is not that we were disconnected. We had what you can call remote relation. Remote connection. Remote something. What is it, I dont know. After been close for couple of years, since the new location, things have tremendously changed. For whatever reason. It changed. And it is ok. I suppose I live with that 'change' thing. It does not really matter to me much. Maybe, as always been accused of, i dont really care. Or it might be that I grew wise and practical that I deny myself the attachment to 'people'. It is ok I would suppose. You need me, you connect. You get busy, you disconnect. And on we both go. I admit I am ok with either. Never felt that it is disrespected. I just feel that it is normal human thing. Over and above, it suits me to some extend. Saves me the burden of expectations. Of obligation. Of having to be totally open and sharing. Although, I hardly have time to share. Or hardly like to share. The time is mostly, recentl