Archive for June, 2014

There always exists this weird urge deep inside every single human, that pushes them to share personal stuff with their friends, even if they were unsharable material. You know how to get over that feeling? Simple, just make sure to share a top secret with one of those whom you deeply trust, let them know that they’re not allowed to tell anyone about it, then watch them a few minutes later telling you how they unintentionally let your secret out to that particular person whom you didn’t want it to reach. Guaranteed. Perfect results. You’ll just never feel like sharing anything with anyone ever again! And if you ever did, you can do the same thing again, but this time you might actually feel like locking yourself up in your room until it’s time to die.

I hate people. I officially do. I hate them because they can’t just know about something without letting everyone else know that they know it. I hate people because all my trust issues are because of them. I hate people because every time I feel that I’m on the edge of getting over my trust issues, someone enters my life and shows me that I’ll forever have to be stuck with them. I hate people because they can’t freaking mind their own business. Because they’ll never want others to know anything about them, but they’ll always go around wanting to know everything about everyone, without ever shutting up about it. I hate people because they make me regret speaking every time I open my mouth. I hate people so much it makes me want to cry.

Note to self: next time you tell someone that you’re going to tell them about something only under the condition of not letting it out, remember that this same sentence is going to be repeated a few minutes later, only that it’s going to be said by that same person to the next person whom they’d let your secret out to.

Learn to only trust yourself. Learn to keep those lips of yours sealed.

Do not trust humans. Ever.
You’re only allowed to hate them. Forever.


A new helplessness

Posted: June 7, 2014 in Uncategorized

It just sucks when you know you have so much inside that you can give to something, while everything about it continues to push you away – every single day. It develops some kind of helplessness, that’s worse than solely not being able to help, because you know then that it’s all within you, you’re so full of it, and yet you’re not given the opportunity to do anything about it at all. It paralyzes you. And instead of allowing you to save up the energy for something else, it makes you start doubting that energy’s existence in the first place. Did you really have anything to give to begin with? Were you capable of anything anyway? And there’s nothing worse than having your doubts controlling your life, for it then gets harder to push them away.

You eventually decide to stay away. Maybe not feeling anything for a while would make things better. But the truth is, it never actually does. Especially when it’s something that’s hardly wanting to change. You continue watching from a distance and you mentally prepare all those pretty plans to initiate that change, but then you get too involved in the process before realizing you’re on the edge of being pushed away over again. And still, you proceed. But instead of being pushed away this time, you’re implicitly forced to push yourself away on your own, and that hurts even more. You won’t only have to push yourself from it, but you’ll eventually notice how you’re pushing yourself away from everything in the world, even your own self. And the road of getting back seems to have never been traveled before.

That’s the problem with loving something so much more than you should, and giving it way more attention than it originally needs. That’s what you get for adding a wrong priority to your list. But the worst part about that is, you never happen to understand any of it unless you pass through it all. You’ll never learn until you’ve tried, and then you’ll hardly find any balance between not knowing and never learning, or knowing and havering to suffer to learn. It will all drain your energy away anyway. Yet still, there’s a reason behind everything that happens to you through the whole process, and that’s probably the only thing that you’ll be able to cling on to. And never let go.

Does that even make any sense at all?

Getting over you

Posted: June 5, 2014 in Uncategorized

You’ve been occupying my mind for so long that I thought getting over you only meant being able to get you out of there. Whenever someone mentioned you around, my insides wouldn’t stop twitching and my mood would never stay the same. I eventually got mad at everyone who unintentionally brought you up or reminded me of you, and I wished it could’ve been possible to distance myself from everyone who knew you.

They said I should keep myself busy. They said I should put some effort into pushing everything that had to do with you out of my life, and that was what I’ve been striving to do for so long. Until I realized it just doesn’t work this way.

Getting over someone turned out to be nothing near any of that. Getting over someone is finally being able to willingly bring their name up in the middle of a conversation, without experiencing anything weird on the inside. It’s never having to lock yourself up at home, in fear of meeting them and getting it all back. It’s normally being able to bump right into them at the least expected times and places, without struggling with the words, without struggling to maintain eye contact, and without struggling to keep yourself together. It’s smiling at the memories, without trying to forget them in fear of wanting to have them back. It’s seeing them in other people’s faces without constantly wanting to look away. It’s realizing your words are slowly slipping into theirs, yet not minding it and not wanting to stay silent.

It’s having a huge portion of your words written for them, and gladly letting them flow, because there’s really no point of holding the words inside when they really want to be told. Because it doesn’t matter who you’re writing for, as long you are still able to write. Because it’s enough that the only time you’d smile at the thought of them can be upon reading something you’ve previously written, that you know no one would have inspired but them. Because the best forms of art are almost always produced after heartbreaks, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong about that.

Getting over someone doesn’t mean you’ll have to hate them, or ignore their entire existence. It’s about accepting the fact that things are just not meant to be, but that they’ll always have their own special place in your heart – that would never allow them to break it again, but will keep them safe in there. Everyone is sent into your life for a reason, and if you keep trying to forget all about them every time you want to move on, you’re definitely going to be missing out on all the reasons that you might never get a chance to relearn.

Getting over someone is hard indeed, but it’ll always prove to be much harder if you kept trying to do it the wrong way.

Why don’t I voice my thoughts, you ask? Why is it that the things you know I have in mind never come to life whenever I’m around people, you wonder? Well, I’ve been asking and wondering too, until I tried to write them all down, and felt absolutely amazed then at how they came out as smoothly and as comfortably as anyone else naturally speaks. That’s when I knew I’ve found myself.

I’ve found myself in words. Written ones. Plenty of those. I couldn’t be any happier, finally knowing how I can let my thoughts out. But then I’ve started writing more, and eventually talking less, until the struggle between my spoken words and my written words emerged and started tearing me apart.

Because when I’m out of words and I read some of the things I’ve written down months ago, words automatically start formulating themselves inside my head, stimulating more thoughts. But that never happens when I hear myself speak, or watch an old video of myself speaking in front of a crowd or even just to myself. It only paralyzes me, thinking about what I could have changed about the way I’ve said those words. It amazes me that even though I constantly feel like editing my written words after reading them, it still doesn’t bother me as much as wanting to edit my spoken words. For one reason maybe and that is how written words tend to carry parts of me within their every letter. When I reread my words, I could easily feel as if I’m back to the time when I first wrote them, and to who I was when I did, but rarely does it happen with spoken ones.

Because when I struggle with spoken words, the silence kills me. Not because I can’t find words to say, but because I know I have them all inside but they just can’t seem to find the right channel to pass through. But when I struggle with written words, it’s rarely ever because I can’t find the right words; there are always some words that can come out and heal my insides, even if they don’t perfectly describe what’s happening in there. Because I know that when I struggle with my written words, it’s almost always because my thoughts are already tangled, and they need someone to figure them out. But struggling with spoken words always seems much harder, because no matter how settled my thoughts are, and no matter how much I’ve figured out what’s going inside, the words are never connected to my thoughts, no matter how hard I try. Because struggling with my voice hurts more than struggling with a pencil touching a paper, or a finger hovering over a letter on the keyboard.

Because when I have an interesting conversation with someone, I can always go back to the words and reread them if we’ve been texting, but spoken conversations usually fade away with time. Even though rereading old conversations hurts sometimes, but having those memories can always remind me of the good parts of certain relationships, that might get blown away when spoken conversations move to the back of my head and can no longer be remembered.

Listen to the words inside my head, and you’ll never want anything more than to fix the part that connects what happens inside with what’s allowed outside.

When you read my words and describe how amazed you are because I don’t seem like this same person in real life, it makes me happy that at least I could let parts of myself out some way, but it still hurts because written words can have a devastating effect on whoever finds comfort in them. It hurts because it makes you realize you’re forever going to be stuck behind a screen, or inside a notebook. It hurts because you know there’s so much inside you that wants to get out, but it’s all limited to written words at the end. It hurts because you’ll suffer when your mind starts getting used to processing words only this way.

It hurts because it deliberately turns you into a person who speaks less than they originally want to, because every time you think about something and have a strong desire to let it out, you find yourself choosing not to say anything at all because no matter what comes out, it would never sound like how it does when you say it inside your own head. It hurts because you start carrying so much inside you that you wish you could have said, and the choice keeps getting harder between saying them and having to forever endure the want-to-edit part of your brain, or not saying them and having to live with the mess in your mind for not allowing the words out when they really wanted to be told.

It hurts because whenever you feel any strong emotion inside you towards any human being, all you can do is write it down. You’ll hardly ever be able to call someone in the middle of the night and wake them up just to tell them how much you love them, need them, or miss them. All you can do then would be writing them a message and hoping that they’d see it first thing in the morning. You’ll hardly ever know how to reply to compliments in real life. You’ll hardly ever know how to tell someone how you feel about them unless you’re writing it down, and then you’ll have to hope that this person likes to read after all.

It hurts because when someone points right at you in the middle of a lecture or a talk just to ask you a question, they don’t understand that you need a couple of minutes to process the words inside your head and write them down just to be able to convey the answer correctly. It hurts because you’ll always have to answer right away and then you’ll spend the rest of the week, if not the entire month, listening to the words that slipped out of your mouth over and over again inside your head, replaying them every time they seem to fade away and wishing so bad you could just go back in time and edit what you said to match what you thought.

It hurts so bad because it only makes sense inside my own head, and I can’t for the life of me have it making sense anywhere outside.

I’ve been trying to stop myself from writing about you for so long, but then I realized it has made me stop writing about anything at all. I’m sure I used to write before you, and I used to write when I knew you existed. Why is it that I can’t write now, even though nothing has changed? Has nothing really changed?

Well, nothing has changed, yes, however it’s all different now. I thought that turning into a you would ease things up for both of us, but now that I’m a you and you’re a me yet we’re no longer us, it turned out to be one of the hardest experiences I’ve had to go through.

You don’t know it but my eyes have been well-trained to spot you in the midst of huge crowds, from very long distances, and notice everything about you. They stare, and they only see another version of themselves. They blink, look away then look back at you, try so hard to push away that image and only look at you, but they still see the same thing. They notice your very tiny details that no one would understand how they still carry parts of me after all this time, and they smile. They see you staring at nothing in particular, and somehow, they’re still able to know exactly what goes on through your mind. I let them stare, because I’ve missed you, and if staring at you from a distance could make me miss you any less, I don’t mind doing it forever.

Sometimes the crowd just gets larger, and I have to bring my attention back to myself instead. There’s nothing more painful than willingly doing that, for I already spend my days internally shivering after my every move, word, or action, since they’re only small versions of you that continuously keep coming out without even waiting for my permission. Now that I have no option other than to look inside, I keep stumbling upon pieces of you that have grown inside without neither of us realizing. My words have been slipping into not only your own vocabulary, but also your own pronunciation that I haven’t even taken the time to practice. My moves have started being very hard to anticipate, yet whenever I think about your moves, I find them in perfect alignment with each other, without even having to get back to me. Everything about me has been making it hard to forget you, because it’s not like I’ll try getting you off my mind or push you out my heart; you’re just all over me, and I’d have to get you out of all my insides.

You know you could be the you you’re constantly reading about in someone’s words without even realizing, and they could be longing for you to notice, but I know it was never this way when it came to us. You’ve been the only one who could point right at yourself in between very long pieces filled with yous that I might have made almost all of them up. You could tell when my yous were only a product of my imagination, and when they had everything to do with you. You were always right, that at some point I realized it might have been you whom I’ve made up in the first place. Yet still, living with a made up version of you will always sound better than having to face myself with the fact that you don’t really exist, despite the pain and heartache that you happen to always bring along. The thing is, you’ve never really matched the picture I drew inside my head, yet all I’ve ever done is shake it off and draw you instead.

Now I want you to stay but I don’t want to be the one asking for it, yet I want to stay but I cannot not want you to ask for it. Why does it have to be this way? And why is it that every time I’m content with the fact that I’m turning my back on you, you pop up out of nowhere and remind me why I’d never be able to?

You’ve happily been the exclamation mark of my entire existence, but now you’re just a big fat question mark that stubbornly refuses to end in a period.

Nobody has an uninteresting life; there definitely must be something that you know better than everybody else.” A writing teacher told her student one day, as she was struggling with a piece that she was working on. There was a long pause. “Tell me, what major are you?” she finally asked.

The student replied, and just as she was about to explain why she chose that major of hers, the teacher half-smiled and instantly said “Oh well, then that actually explains why you might not know a lot.” She looked at her friend who quietly laughed, and bumped her hand together with hers.

The girl shifted her eyes between both ladies in disbelief, yet she found herself forcing a smile on her face, in an attempt to reduce the awkwardness of the situation. She had no option other than to let it go.

Countless are the number of times people with not-so-common majors face similar situations in their everyday lives. The way the conversation goes might be altered a little, but the concept would always be the same at the end. People nowadays tend to stereotype others based on what they choose to study, which, in most cases, might be representing a very tiny portion of the person they really are. The problem does not lie in stereotyping though; it is more about the reactions towards these stereotypes, as everyone strives to avoid falling under people’s made up categories, eventually losing themselves in the process.

When high school students first get to choose between sciences and literary, most parents would try to direct their children away from the latter, because it is not very highly viewed among our society. A student who chooses to study History for instance, rather than Physics or Chemistry, would most probably be labeled as a “memorizer“, or someone who takes the easy way out, because they just cannot do science. Rarely would anyone pay attention to the fact that this person might actually be interested in those stuff, and that this could be where they find themselves the most. This is exactly what affects students’ choices at that phase; their fear of being added to a category that they do not really belong to.

After high school grades are out, “Are you doing Engineering or Medicine?” is almost always the question that high achievers are asked. If a person with a high score decides to do something out of the norm, they would be viewed as someone who is “wasting their grades”, as if the only reason students should get good grades is to enter university, which thinking about it, has truly become one of the most dangerous phenomenons in our country nowadays.

Being part of a society that values Summit Colleges more than anything else, has had a huge impact on students’ behaviors. Almost every undergraduate ends up deciding their major based on what would secure them a job among this society in the future, regardless of what they really enjoy doing. For instance, one of the most likeable majors nowadays is psychology, since so many people seem to be interested in how the human mind works and in people’s different personalities. However, when a psychology graduate student was asked about the reactions she gets regarding her major, she said that she has encountered many people who admitted that they so much wanted to major in psychology as well but refrained because they knew they would not have a good future in Egypt.

This is not how the equation should go. This is totally not how our minds should work. You should be choosing your job based on your major, not decide your major because you want a certain job.

Now this is not a piece that aims to highlight the problems we have in Egypt or how we could find solutions for them. We already have enough people who are aware of this, and there is so much that can be done if we really want to overcome them. This is a message to you; you are reading it for a reason.

Choosing to study something unusual does not mean you are taking the easy way out. But giving up a dream of yours because it does not mean much in your country instead of holding on to it and believing you can make it matter some day, definitely means you are. There is no such thing as an easy major and a hard one. The load of each major does vary, yes, but at the end, if you choose to go for something that you are not fully passionate about, everything would seem extremely hard, no matter how smart you are, or how well you have been doing in high school.

Imagine yourself studying on the night before a really hard exam for a subject that you extremely despise. Now imagine yourself studying on a completely different night for another hard course that you are deeply in love with. Would people’s views regarding your major even matter on any of these nights? Would the job you think you have secured yourself after graduation even cross your mind then?

If you excel in a certain field but you have given it up for another society-accepted one, you are to be blamed when our country experiences a shortage of good accountants, well-taught business men, passionate psychologists, skilled lawyers, or effective musicians, but continue having an infinite supply of Engineers and Doctors. Every major counts, and every person is meant to add something to the world through their own way. If we all share the same passions, we would end up being nothing but repeated copies of each other, and this world will never be a better place.

Most importantly, if you do find yourself in a field that is common, never make someone else feel less about themselves just because they do not share your passion. Never belittle anyone else’s field, and never be the writing teacher who looked down on her student, for you might be killing the hopes of a young girl who was meant to change the world one day.