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ماذا أُخبر من؟
الحياة مُخيفة، والناس في أفضل الأحوال خليط عبثي غريب من "لا يمكن الاعتماد عليه" و "لا يمكن العيش بدونه". ما انكسر لن ينصلح أبدًا، ربما مضى وقت البكاء عليه منذ أمدٍ بعيد، لكن حتى وإن لم يمض، البكاء ليس حلًا على أية حال، شأنُه شأن المضي قدمًا بالضبط. ليس هُناك ضمانة ل��ي شيء، ولا حتى الروابط الأزلية التي كوّنتها بينك وبين نفسك تجاه أُناس مُعينين، هي ليست محميّة، لا بمعرفتك ولا بحسن تصرّفكم، ستنهدم، وسيُعاد تكوينها من جديد، أو ستلقى في صندوق قمامة. لا شيء مُقدّس في هذه الحياة على الأغلب، لكننا نُحب أن نعطي للأشياء قُدسية، ولأنفسنا كذلك، لأننا لن نحتمل قسوة الحقيقة
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نفسي أعمل مؤسسة عمل تطوعي للتفتيش عن الذات - مش عن طريق كورسات التوعية، ولا بالثيرابي، ولا بالجدعنة حتى لأ بحملات تفتيش ليترلي، هنقف ع الكورنيش، نوّقف إنسان الضياع الأليم، نطلع نجري ورا ذاته، نقفش ديك أبوها ونقوله ذاتك أهي يا خول، نرده ع البارد ونقوله ييجي كل ٣ جيلت ترابس.
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Spending the rest of my life trying to let go of what an ideal parenthood could’ve given me, is just the hardest thing that ever existed. Yah, you go to therapy, try to deal some stuff and move on, but forget it, you’re taking this pain, that longing, and this loneliness to your fucking grave.
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I had a week of what I intended to be; distant from unwanted stimuli and unreasonably loud events and people. It was different and kinda sweet. However, I don’t seem to be able to simply enjoy anything these days, especially with the remarkable depletion of energy that me and many others are suffering. Ironically it’s thanksgiving day, and I can’t summon any gratitude for the same reason. I just wish if people would stop screaming for a second, and all things around me stop demanding, and all things inside of me to stop moving, just for a second, so I can get to hear, for once, the sound of silence, that’s essential for surviving.
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It's brutal, isn't it?
The anxiety of living, I call it.
How it corners you sometimes;
Helpless,
Defenseless,
Only with the bare minimum of truth you've faintidly gathered
and a wisdom that often rejects itself
to tell you randomly one night,
"how long is this going to take?"
without knowing what "this" refers to exactly,
yet relating to the sound very damn much.
Is it grief? Is it fear?
Is it disappointment?
Boredom? Anger?
Is it loneliness?
No, I konw all of these for themselves.
What is it then?
What is it that shakes the core of myself and fills up my barren eye with blood?
What is it that everything I try to say about, only make things worse
God, what is it this pain?
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I feel like she's hovering around, she is coming I know that. She is definitely getting closer. I have a feeling of each and every step she takes at my direction. I find myself pausing, standing up, taking a deep breath, and getting ready to say: Hi!:') It's been so long. However, I still don't get to say that 'cause it's never the final step. There're steps to be taken. By me? By her? Do we come close and startle away? Do we keep swinging like a fucking pendulum? I don't know, yet Hi, Hello to the walls, to the sky, to the streets, to the neurons in my brain, to the unconscious, to wherever the fuck this road is. Hello for every step on it.
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"Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
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Yes, I am too much to be around, but it's very much worth it.
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If I could make few strings on a woody little box moan like this, I can't even begin to describe what I'd do to you.
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“Most assuredly you want the pilot to be his regular and ordinary self. You want him to approach and undertake his work with no more than a calm pleasure. You want nothing fancy, nothing new. You ask him to do, routinely, what he knows how to do—fly an airplane. You hope he will not daydream. You hope he will not drift into some interesting meander of thought. You want this flight to be ordinary, not extraordinary. So, too, with the surgeon, and the ambulance driver, and the captain of the ship. Let all of them work, as ordinarily they do, in confident familiarity with whatever the work requires, and no more. Their ordinariness is the surety of the world. Their ordinariness makes the world go round…And this is also true. In creative work—creative work of all kinds—those who are the world’s working artists are not trying to help the world go around, but forward.”
— Mary Oliver, Upstream
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"Tonight, I'm gonna do something for my soul" —told myself this while getting ready to go out.
I ended up playing video games for 5 hours as I found it so much easier.
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It had been so much time since I last felt effortlessly happy, warm and entertained. I'm not exaggerating if I tell you it's over a decade.
I gladly find myself having a glimpse of that feeling back in the past couple of days. I felt it, and it wasn't a recalling process or some sort of longing for something that's in the past. It was born at that very moment. Effortless non-stressful entertainment and unforceful happiness!:')
It caught me by surprise. In fact, I've never anticipated that I could ever feel this way again, despite my constant self-work that often seems stressful itself. I tried for a moment to capture the feeling and memorize how exactly it felt like before it fades away again for I don't know how long.
I don't like to sound victimized nor heroic, but if my efforts have participated, in any way, in earning me this feeling back, even for seconds, then: cheeeeers🍾OMG-this life is amazing-O man-that was worth it-el ghazala ray2a-3azama 3la 3azama 3la 3azama 3la 3azama wallah el 3azim.
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Ever since i started looking into myself, I had some kind of a ritual that whenever things get really dark, hazy and desperate, I think of all the things that I have, and all the things that I lack, and I dare myself that I will have the later regardless how awful the situation is. I'm a very dreamy man, so dreamy that sometimes i think that the depth and the heaviness of my aspiration might actually break or kill me one day. But that's how i tolerate them, with more challenge and more stubborn. Especially that I'm also very practical and strongly believe in solutions, resolution and the way that self functions, evolves and grows up. Such a limitless ability to believe in that. The past three months were so epic. So as every and each day of my twenties so far, but I've taught myself resilience, there're so many times that i had to pamper me, talk or sing me to calm down or sleep. And i know that for some moments it could appear so sad and lonely, but that's how it happens now, and I'd feel so grateful if I'd ever have managed to comfort me and pass the moments and keep believing, that I'm gonna go on, discovering, wanting, daring, dreaming, anticipating, arranging and designing.. I love it when I draw a picture of what's gonna happen next, regardless how capable life is to surprise me and everyone else. I love the sense of foolishness that comes with that, i mean two days ago i was setting plans for after retirement, which were so charming btw:D I know i got nothing to lose, except for myself, that I know for sure i'll lose it if i ever gave up investing in it, nourishing it, and looking for whatever means and resolutions come in the way. :')
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You know that I'm probably the best one who can ever take a photograph of me? Isn't it sad? Yes and no. But i'm choosing to look at it as if I'm the best one who can truly sees me.
That ain't much.
Last week i caught myself telling someone a very good expression about my individuality that i find interesting to tell. I barely found any way to share it so I'm seizing the opportunity. As long as i lived, there were always people who affected me, my personality, my styles, taste, my thoughts, my way of communication, and pretty much everything else in every possible way. So, i've always felt like I'm a mixture of myself and something or someone else. That my body has another outsourced machine that has a say in everything I feel or do.
The past time~about 5 to 10 months, I found myself distened from everyone and everything that has ever affected me. I lost people, moved away from others and I had to give up plans and spend the majority of my time by myself. During that time, I have never felt so much alone in my life, yet I have never felt so much liberated. I had a chance to elaborate to myself what belongs to me and what belonged outside. I got to meet the things that was purely coming out of myself, and not anyone else's. I got to know these things, Spend more time with them, I had a chance to love them!
So I wasn't overreacting when I told my dear friend last weekend that this's Samir in front of you, and nothing but him, with complete joy and content.
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Today I wanted to feel excited about life through someone else's existence. But sadly this wasn't available, so I tried every other way to get excited. It was like trying to install the wrong piece of puzzle. But what can I say. It gets humiliating sometimes but here we are again :')
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