my scribbled world

a shape which lost it’s shapeness , a dream with no vividness , a sky that is skyless, a right that is not so right. it’s unusual but is it wrong ?

i like things and objects when it’s quite unshaped or out of shape. when the uneven sharp edges dents the surface of my hands when i don’t dream but recreate a reality out of a vision, when i look into the sky and it has no clouds but it’s limitless, raw and uncovered. i like the wrong that’s of value, despise the right that’s said to be so.

i scribble the straight lines into a chaos of endless motion and an origin with no start, a scribble that is different among the many of people.

and i don’t quite like to call people ”people” but there is just no other word that is palpable, they are herds of seamless thinking. ripples of ignorance in continuum, who will break the vibration?, the transmittance?. and who threw the rock?

i have been busy with the world, observing those vibrations. sitting in any empty space within sight with my cup of coffee whether at home or outside, my feet drifts me towards emptiness only just so i can travel to another world, to break the continuum, to detach from the world’s essence, to travel to another world, a world with no sky nor ground, to be suspended in mid air feeling nothing. a complete numbness is what i desire. every step i take in this world is heavy. my feet are light and i walk abnormally fast that most of my friends complain of not being able to catch up to me thus my feet are not heavy  what’s heavy is my mind so i thought. my mind felt heavy i begged through my eyes for someone to understand the torment in such peculiarity. there were cords connected to every part of my body bringing the world to me. to feel the whole world inside of me, every little aspect of every little thing is continuously being processed. the wind it’s speed and texture, how the leaves changes as the winds does, the falling dead leaves and flowers, the crawling endless variety of bugs and insects. how can a such world exists separate from us, yet so connected to the point our daily activity and life choices effects them and to the worse odds end them. this stream of thoughts goes on until a weird form of life in flesh and bones shows up as the faces of creatures called humans and blocks that image. then instantly their eyes start speaking before their mouths, the wrinkles their lips make through their faces as they move, how their hands lifts up jumping right and left in completion to what the mouth speaks and what the eyes hide. but at that very moment the two images fuses into one. the two worlds shapes a single gigantic jigsaw. all the data is fed into me all at once. so a single encounter of a friend or stranger can keep my cords hooked in alert, in such connection that the winds and the trees doesn’t fall far from the humans in front of me.

these two worlds made into one inside of me keeps my head heavy, i keep walking fast head down trying shutting everything out yet failing. i have been angry at the world needing to split the connection. so focused on filling every minute of my day, when i realized that everything is connected to my soul rather than my brain and there is no way to split and travel to any other imaginative world no matter how bad i long for it. because this connection will always be within my soul. what i carried as a burden god meant for it to be a gift. an illustration of gods presence within each one of us. the strength to lift my heavy soul and raise my head up, to take in all the worlds there in i’m afraid is not given by god, because if it was it will never be realized. it can only be gained through pain and suffering so much that you have no choice but to sit and understand it, embrace it and instead of rising up to it, let pain be your best friend. let pain lift your character to the level of your gift. because failure is disguised as a gift with no character.



My strain is one of the wild daisies

I am a pessimistic in the eyes of those who know my view on all matters of life. It’s true I am! What I can’t fathom about myself is my strong attachment to hope; I hold on to hope as it slips with the very tips of my fingers as if I was hanging from the cliff of Ronda of Spain that as much as I enjoy the view I am not very keen on letting go. This kind of attachment shouldn’t be naturally attributed within a pessimistic person. So what am I? Am I a hopeful pessimistic? Or am I an optimistic in disguise?

I don’t think there should be a single definition of pessimism, in fact it should be sub-defined into structured pessimism and pure pessimism.

Pure pessimism is where sadness and disappointment over wins the soul in whole. Which makes the body follows and stop moving for anything and for anyone and when I say the body I include the heart and lungs too, where your whole chest feels empty and heavy at the same time.

Structured pessimism is all what said about the pure one but applies to those who have learned to live with a soul over won by sadness. Those who adapted to moving with heavy yet empty chest, who sufficed to breathing shallow and to hearts beating too much and too rapidly for their own capacity. Those who are content to laughing partially and to enjoying only to their extent.

Only so they can still cling to hope, because on the contrary to what they lost, hope is the only entity still not over won; a seed that spread too much into soil it can never be fully cut out.

A pessimistic person who has structured his sadness is one who builds a virtue out of a sin but can’t tell the difference.

One who enjoys the drop of rain and the sting of the sun just the same but still thinks the sun is only there because of the rain not the opposite.

A one who never fails to remind oneself that battles of self are fought alone. Battles of self are won alone. Battles of self are in fact self-created and self-realized and so no one and nothing can interfere and nothing can be done but to hope and build a rose out of the little wet soil at the side of the road nurtured by the tears of sky and hoped by the sun that dry.

A structured pessimist is one of the strain of the wild daisies. In the eyes of that pessimist is not so strange that spring comes after winter and is not strange that he enjoys both just the same.

Only those who enjoys the rain can see the beauty of a wild rose at the side of the road.

so what am i? i am a structured pessimist.


The girl with no footsteps 

​Today i would like to write about my pink pin, and the fine line drawn by it’s 0.4 mm tip, it’s a radiant pastel pink – just like me that combination is hard to believe it could exist in one. the tip pigments the paper so smoothly as the round tip flows over the white paper extracting it’s motion from my fingers. i hate my fingers they are and unlike my body so thin and slender, skin is so transparent that you can easily count the veins on them – that’s not so bad really people showed admiration of that transparency and of My personality quite the same, a transparent one that draws admiration but hardly left in peace – I’m neither frightened nor okay with the situations i find my personality simultaneously creating for me as i live day by day – I’m in transcendent realm of thoughts – i haven’t been before, i don’t know which is which, what is bad n what is good, what is a rational human behavior and what’s query.

As i lay my head on the table, the pink strokes came into focus and and at the end of the line what i know is that i am a delicate soul. A fragile leaf drifting where ever the winds may take. A lone survivor of my own ship reck and i have lived to tell the tale. The tale of a girl with no footsteps.

I used to write with black pens only then i discovered colors. And then i hated colors  because they were too over rated so i got back to using only black pens and once in a while i pick up this pink one and it is not so over rated in fact it brings uniqueness, new vision and contrast to the black. This is in the same way how the stars only shines it’s uniqueness fully when the sky is
 deep in black. When there is no lights on the streets but the stars. Have you ever seen the stars on a black out night? No need for the words of a poet for the stars become the peot and the poem. simply breathtaking. Like the pink and black and like the stars on a black out night. We need something or someone of our own to contrast our uniqueness and overcast our flaws. And that can only be designed for us it could be derived from within us or from the world but it has to be for the individual for the sole and true person we are. Otherwise we will live delusional and misguided.

All sorts of all

You were fought off your existence, since the day you were born, your fought by the closest people to you, and that’s all you know about life.
You were given an incredible ability to love everyone, to cherish every human soul, and to give when ever you can, even when your running low yourself!
That love is often rejected, used, misunderstood or even drained and misplaced, you go by everyday with something missing, with a void you keep on filling with meaningless objects and tainted smiles.


You manage to renew your faith in humanity and keep on giving and it’s a circle all over again.
I walk beaten in soul, and i try with every breath i can to find the patience and the courage to still give, because i still believe that somewhere someplace there are people who deserve even a little of what i got to give, i believe that these people are the reason why I’m still fighting for the real me, for the virtues i was born with.
I’m the kind of person who wears her feelings upon her face, i struggle to laugh through the swirling emotions inside, just so people won’t ask what’s wrong? This question is just a useless remark by someone who is just forced by  the sight of your misery to ask it.
I go by everyday with a moment where i look at the wall of the library where i study and feel the urge to let go and just cry, to admit the big ball of sadness, anger and despite i am!
I look around and i know there is no one who’s worth it enough to see that side of me.
I get up and look around for something to restore peace to my soul just enough so i can hold it all together
Usually that 1st person would be Awad, Awad is the godfather of the library, he is big guy with a slender soul, a boldy who constantly wears a smile so big it says I’m too strong for this world and eyes that holds a great ocean of sadness i can’t figure out, i grew fund of him over the days, i can spill gibberish and he would still understand and comment on, he gives at moments when he is in the most need to receive.

I have learned that pain is of all sorts, the soundless pain, the pain the leaches on, the pain that is not worn apparently but is always there, see the problem is not in feeling pained, the problem is in the sort of pain that’s so strong it can’t be felt, it’s a plague of human interaction, it spreads and detaches you from the ground you set your feet on so much that you can’t feel it’s presence, so the real problem is NOT feeling pained.
Your judgment is impaired and your emotions are as useless as that one shirt in the closet you never wear!

Who am i? And the ugly truth

With two simple words, your life may take an unexpected turn and you might get to be someone you never thought you had within, the run of events, from the looks to the casual heys,  to the long Internet talks, to meetings and from that to the longings and admiration.


You think you know who u are and how much you can give!
but it turns out you were misplaced and that’s not who you really are but who your oppressed to be.

I never even thought of knowing what passion is, or what longing for as much with a person is, i never thought i could feel the presence of someone elses but mine, my presence was always too big it shadowed over everyone elses and no one could reflect back any light.

But his presence here and now is making mine even bigger and most  radiant.

I feel empowered by it and i feel the need to empower it back, i need to see it shadow over others with me, more than it ever shadowed over any before.

I never thought i could be happy or sad for someone other than my family, things just don’t interest me enough, nothing is intriguing unless if it was coming from inside my mind, but the the idea of him, not just the idea but himself interests me.

I’d finally get to think of him, to picture him, to finally illustrate the dusk and dawn, and the day and night all in his eyes, i could finally feel what romantic writers get to so lavishly describe.

But i don’t want to describe this in words, it could almost be of a mysteries phenomenon where the heart and mind syncs as one, they are always expressed as having two different paths, the logic and the scrutinized emotional drive, but i can clearly see that they were just waiting for one thing to link through, the heart can’t simply feel without the mind seeing the logic,  and the mind can’t see the logic in anything that the heart can’t feel.

It is we who misunderstood ourselves and it is we who can find the glitch in the system and have the only key to reboot.

When you emerge in something you completely feel and understand is euphoric, but to every euphoria is the downside of being ended and the fear of overdosing.
Fear plagues logic and emotions with overthinking, i won’t state that i don’t have this fear, but the hope i have for this succeeding and not being just a fling is thriving over all fears.

The wanting of him exempts any doubts.

I wrote this some time ago, and i always wanted to finish it but never had the time to, but now giving to the fact that i didn’t care if his mind and heart also synced at the sight of me, as mine does at the sight of him, it didn’t really matter if i overcame fear or not.
Some of our journeys are mapped out for us by the universe, some journeys are not taken on alone.
This wasn’t about me from the very beginning, but about him and his journey to self-completion.

The wanting of him employs all doubts.

The Quantum theory and so on..

space and time are definitive

the events sequined by our actions follows through and are infinitive, stuck in between space and time.

what we do today at ten PM could change what we are at the same time tomorrow, again time and space are definitive you can’t deny them, and you can’t specify a way of living them , yet you can specify  your future by the way you live your present.


isn’t the future a property of time and space? is the future definitive too?  how can we change the future if it’s constant in space and time, but it’s true our actions today are the outcomes of tomorrow, if so! then WE must be the future and thus WE are space and time.

if we don’t exist will time and space still exist? or do all of this disappear? we can’t be sure, because all of this world with it’s facts, science, quantum and all of the traffic and jam of the daily life all of that exist in our minds, if we disappear how would we know that all of this won’t!
if you start seeing your life in the eyes of the universe, you realize the spec of time and space you occupy, a tiny piece of a bigger image that of most organization, like a big embroidery on the ceiling of a fancy palace, still though a change even as tiny as it seems could pilfer the enchantment of our universe.

your a big piece yet your a tiny one!, not at all confusing, it solely and entirely depends on your perspective ( if you stay focused on that piece and that piece only all you see is merely that, you’l start feeling the importance of the space you fill, when you think of how your absence effect the other pieces, once you think of that, everything becomes shadowed and of less importance on it’s own.

One day, fifteen years from now or so, you’ll hear of someone you loved back in the past, getting married, having a child, suffering from an illness or even dead! it doesn’t really matter, because either way whether is a good or bad news, everything will feel parallel, and space will be void, and all you’ll be left with is the memories that somehow finds it’s way filling the void.

each of us takes a different path and with time we are rendered astray from our initial purpose, this is where the people in your life fits in, to hold your hand and set you back on track, those who observe us with care have a better view of who we have become and where we are heading.


Two Am ; can’t sleep, orbitals and galaxies on my room’s ceiling, a chase of memories escape through those galaxies with every time i shut my eyes in pursue of sleep, words of space and time keeps running,

maybe this is all the night’s doings but still the Question: what are we of all of this? remains…


the love kinda friendship

 A Relationship formed side by side with friendship  is of the strongest ones.

if i’m ever asked for an advice about a certain admirer or crush i’d say be friends 1st before you walk into the formidable love drama, because that’s the part where you get comfortable and start knowing things you didn’t know before and that either makes your relationship stronger or merely a mistake but with going with the friends then lovers approach there is  a greater chance you’ll find that mistake before the harm is done.

but what if your not planning for love or friendship what if your best friend decided to love you and it turns to one sided love.

he loved me 1st, he love me more, he love me once, twice and he loved me thrice and many times.

he loved me like in the movies, like in the stories and like i was the only girl on the planet.

he loved me and i tried to love him back, his warm eyes and widest of smiles, i can see me in those eyes, and the best of all? his overwhelming presence, oh how many times have i wanted to hug him and assure him that i’m doing my best to be his, but doing the best to be his is not the same as being his, and if i do fail, it would be twice as hurtful than if i was his for even once! with the loss of his friendship.

i’m not hurt by the lack of love, not hurt for being left out, for being unappreciated, nor for being alone as people nowadays are, i’m hurt by the unconditional love that i’m unable to take in or have the will to give back, i’m suffocated by the irony of life and scrutiny of days, and it’s sure my future won’t be of any less confusion.

this has been the heaviest of burdens and the lightest of dreams , the greatest of sins and of my most blessed deeds, a virtue and disbelief .

over the past couple of years have i carried this schizophrenic monotony, i didn’t quite understand it, nor have i understood it yet! i have chosen to write about it before, hoping for the words i write to provide me with at least an echo of a meaning, but ended with not having the courage to write a single word.

He was planning to watch a movie, watching movies and talking about them with him is one of the things that sets this life at ease, he named a few and decided to watch ‘Love Rosie’ he recommended it so…

i carried on, and watched it too months later, specifically the night of the 26th of march 2016, the movie was of his story, wishing i have watched it way earlier, it struck me that the only thing i was ever confused about is myself!

i kept everything he ever got me, they are of the things i church, not matter how small it was, was it a piece of paper, couple of simple quotidian words, or was it a gift box.

He is the idea and the meaning, the question and the answer, he is the sky with it’s morning sun and night moon, he is the tears and the smile, the pain and the joy, the leafs of autumn, the howling wind, the rain and storm, the sun that burns your skin, and the colors of spring that makes all the former somehow tolerable, he is everything of a meaning.

and i’m a person of irrationality and rational madness which sounds utterly irrational and that’s how i feel most of the time, i usually fail to grasp the core of meanings and i’m happy with that.

this time i failed to grasp the most important of meanings

i failed to grasp a friend

i failed to grasp him.