A Message from within

So I'm back to the old trips and the annoyance it impose on me. I hate going there. Hate everything about it and in it. I feel squeezed in space, literally, and in realm. Fake. Cautious. Anticipating. Watched. Feared. And I feel like a stranger. Well I am. And will always be. And I have no one to turn to. Or talk to. Sunk in my dark feelings and thoughts. Counting the minutes till I leave. This time it's not only myself whom I'm trying to hide in but it's June and August who are following me everywhere even if I try to escape. I became resisting to all this relation and what it entails and expects of me. I face a swinging feeling between wanting to continue and really feeling suffocated by it. Totally. By him specifically. After all these years I realised that we are so different. Maybe we have a connexion but day-to-day level, we fail miserably. I get annoyed by almost every gesture and every tone. Sarcastic and unforgiving. I see only the bad in him. Haunted with

Once said that the opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. Did I reach there?  I feel so. As if I am struggling to keep myself interested. To keep myself in this house and in this relation and this family. It has become a struggle. An uphill effort that keeps me from enjoying. Keeps me from wanting to wakeup in the morning. Keeps me from an ability to smile. To feel light. Rather sarcastic. Empty. As if there is a vacuum inside of me. No energy to take me through. No desire to smile or play or even accept or deliver a joke. I became too serious. Too ridiculous. Too isolated from the happening to the emptiness. Looking with a cold eye to what is surrounding me; to the supposedly happy events to mean more commitment and more work and more soul-level effort. 'I can't handle all that', I tell myself. Not that i am ungrateful but because I am really bored.  Bored from him. From her. From them. From me. Not even interested in explaining what happened. Not hopeful for

I really can not take it. I am Bored. Angry. Annoyed. I still have not changed my mind about how I want it to change. I seem to not being able to do the switch back. Drifting. And I'm actually seeking for more drifting. I seem to not wanting it ti work. Not interested. Not in the kin. Not in the chef.

This has become my new favourite place here. I go to it almost every day. I get a coffee that  I never manage to finish or drink a lot from. It is coffee of the day. Normal brew. But I claim it is the best coffee of the day I have ever tasted. I love to just walk browse the selves and smell the natural aroma of the shampoo and soap section. Reminds me of Terry, my friend from Oregon who just won't use anything non-organic.  Last time, June and I were just about to leave when a tornado started and the generous rain soaked us. It was great feeling. The rain drops were actually bulky and full-bodied. Close to their coffee. Of course the coffee got cold. I still put it in the car next to the previous ones with the hope that i will finish it later… something that I should by now realise that it never happens. No matter how many times I share the experience. Share the large assortment of cheese existing. The coffee experience. It all falls on deaf ears. I initially receive no comment

I realised that things are turning away from the perfect look that I once imagined and aspired to. It becomes more pragmatic, practical and distant. Same as the previous life. Probably will end like the previous one but this time with much more luggage to care for and adjust to. And with this will come the pain and the compromise. It might not be like the previous in taking different physical turns, but it will be deeper. A separation on the spirit level. Given the once claimed deep connexion we once had, it will be serious. I am sitting here overlooking the golf course. June is busy with taking her long bath. Minutes after June and him ended the talk, I realised that I have no place among them. By choice. By design. By intention. I separate myself. And I do that by simply not responding to the fake gestures or polite invitation to engage. I can tell the boredom and the need to end the conversation and I let him go. I invite him to end the connexion and he gladly accepts this invitat

So June's birthday was all planned behind my back. Planned to have me not included. Planned to have me not attending. More than the real intention of the birthday, which is June herself. In fact, June herself was abused to prove a point and inflict anger. Part of their selfeshness and stupidity. Yes, June might have been super happy. Naive and light. Totally absorbed in the moment. But in the future when she is sober, she will ask. I hope you will find an answer to this by then. Not worried about that actually. Indeed another manipulation will be put to use.

So today I entered John's to get my coffee and he was sitting there. Working on his sheets as usual. Or planning his next move. Or lamenting his destiny. Or whatever. Does not matter what he was doing. It is probably anything but wasting his time in the trivial aspects of his life. I looked at him for a moment. Placed my classical order. Waited until it was finished and left. Did not go to his table to greet him or say hi.  While waiting, I remembered when I used to enter any place and search for him. Search for his face in exasperation for comfort. The moment I saw his face, I would automatically smile. And in most cases, he would feel my presence and look in my direction. It was a remote longing and an intimate connexion despite the proximity and the barriers. We were closer to each other than any soul would imagine. It even surprised us.  Later, when we were together, we continued on the same habit. That time we would have a big smile on our faces and we would go straight

So she finally said it in a semi suffocated irritated tone. A relief to part of the anger she had been feeling for the past year and half. Initially she mumbled with annoyance ' ...you will never move to close this machine.' He must have heard or guessed her saying that. But seriously how ridiculous this while thing is. She's almost collapsing from fatigue and errands; he sitting on the sofa doing nothing, the machines screams but in vain. As if nothing is happening. Why does she have to go turn it off every single time! And now he eats the ice cream and the loakers and leave the empty containers on the kitchen' table! Why? ' I know you don't love me and all but have some mercy....' Indeed, have some freaken mercy. You are always doing this. It's her turn now to tell you: ' you are such a liability...' Worst type of liability actually. A taker by all means. At least she said it finally. Not sure why is she reluctant to share what she felt. It

I can't really blame it all on June. Yes, she is a factor but not all the factors. Maybe she helped accelerate the process. To reveal aspects that was hidden and stagnant beneath the surface of the connexion. The location as well did play its turn and unites with June against me. When June arrived, I was already in a floating state still discovering the depth of the connexion. Although the connexion had promised and had hopes that it would be a strong, astounding one, but a little while into it, it did not really seem as it promised. It was like any other. Had its ups and downs, as well as, its silent moments. I think it was a normal thing to happen, but given what this deal had promised, it was underachieving. Looking back and looking now, I can surely say that it is not successful. And I am daring myself to say and declare that it will not be. June, although an accelerator to this desitny, but it is what's holding it from falling so quickly.

I am sitting here. Alone. Finally I would say. There are lots of things I need to catchup on with myself but I have no time. Or energy. Or will. Or even desire. Escaping and be alone have become my target. Everyday target. As if it becomes my only objective now. When I am 'finally' alone, I do not sleep, although I so need it. I just sit alone in this miserable place look at the mess around. How everything is crooked and twisted. Unorganised and misplaced. Unclean and uncared for. Empty fridge and stacked garbage. Lots of items here and there that are not taking any shapes nor promising any direction. Rich view but with poor interior and with what resides inside.

T: 'Who knows maybe the next trip you will come with me to visit these countries.' S: 'You never know. You might be surprised.' And he meant it as a sarcasm to the countries he was proposing she will be visiting with him when he takes the new post. And she meant it as a decision that she had already done with herself. She is definitely not going to be joining him. Anywhere. Sounds like she had made her mind and deciding where she will do next. What will happen next. How she will proceed next. All in the next phase. For the now, it will remain stagnant for the time being until the delivery occurs. Before and after that she will remain silent. Maintain her distance. Saluting their break and disconnection that now became part of their daily routine. What really happened between them was not expected on some level. It could have been blown out of proportion; been initiated as a joke then took a different dramatic direction. Or just a phase. I personally think it is no

I was introduced to Anais by a friend of mine. I am not sure why she chose this writer to recommend to me. Her reasoning was that I write like her. Some similarity between us. I start reading a bit. Her books were censored because of the high sexual content and more so because she was a lesbian. Not a direct announced lesbian, but a clear inclination to the love of female. During my last visit to Cairo, I went to my room and searched for one of her books. I never actually read her books to the end, but i remember that I would read a lot of Anais. The similarity is there for sure. Not particularly in the way I write, but probably in the self-dialogue and the endless search for a space and place; the dilemma between being found and getting lost again; the continuous desire to see and pierce through the self of one and others. Not sure where did life took Anais, the real one, but she sure had an unhappy life. But this was her choice. Or fate? Not very sure. June and I. More than just