Dear Owls, whibley whobley.

Dear Owls,

Everybody gets lost sometimes, everybody goes through a major shift of events, negative thoughts and just plain confusion. My mistake, now and always, has been that I hold myself accountable for these emotions. I think thoughts must be perfect and emotions should remain stable at all times. It's okay to have a shift of perspective every now and then.

Today, I learn that confusion can be hilarious. I learn that past mistakes become choices. I learn that the world is just a big jumble of a whibley whobly mess. And it's fantastic that way.

Me.

Dear Owls, this summer.

This summer, I needed an adventure. And so, here I am... Away from the closest people to me for over a month for the first time ever.

Each summer I take with me something new, this time I learn that experiences come in pairs; the good and the bad.

I needed to feel alive again and so, I decided to do what scares me. I went hiking with the craziest people I know (Nesma and Sarah) and jumped from mountains into cold waters. I pretended not to care when I fell and cut my knee. I swam with frogs. I meditated on a roof till sunrise. I was around lizards, snakes and things I have no name for. It’s times like these, I realize that life is so short and we are so short tempered. This summer, I learn to love my hometown all over again. I went to historic sites, places that our ancestors walked on. I fell there too, because I’m that clumsy. I saw the best and worst. I can safely say, this summer has been an absolute dream.

This summer, I learn that people won’t always be nice, but you need to learn how to trust sometimes. This summer, Jordan taught me how to get ready in less than 5 minutes, because no outing is planned and I have OCD. Correction, had* OCD. I learn that sometimes the ugliest stores are the ones you can find the most beautiful bracelets in. And the ugliest places have the most beautiful views. And the ugliest people… you know where I’m going with this.

This summer, I meet my family again. I laugh at jokes I can finally understand. I tell stories because I am now old enough to capture their attention. This summer, I catch myself missing the ones we lost. It is the first summer I am in Jordan without both my grandfathers and they left a huge emptiness behind. Their memory remains in photos and their favorite places to sit at gatherings. This summer, I understand death for the first time and yet I am even more confused.

This summer, I spoke to God in a different language. I learn that Ramadan is about giving and peace. Although 3azayem (gatherings) make it seem warlike, it is actually a very peaceful month (for those who do not have to cook). I took the time to reconnect with things that I lost down the road; childish ideas, faith in happy endings, and trust that Allah does actually catch you when you’re falling. And this summer, I fell a lot. (twice down the stairs, thank you)

I travelled across Jordan, and for the first time in my life, I went on an 8-hour car ride with nothing but an IPod and good company. I sang my heart out in an Open Mic to strangers who soon became friends. Bad events soon became hilarious stories to tell. Dropping my phone into its death slowly became a blessing. Screens have a very interesting way of blocking experiences that could take your breath away. This summer took my breath away so many times. Literally. I almost got killed 3 times by cars (or drivers) that have no chill.

Despite my scary adventures, the bravest thing I did was leaving behind my brothers. My parents had a bet that I wouldn’t last two months, and for the first few days, I was fine- but somewhere along the road, I genuinely thought they would win their bet. I can’t wait to go back and share all the stories with them; turning each disaster into a hysterical bedtime story. Each memory into a tale, where I am the heroin- except in these stories, my brothers are right by my side. This way, I know that this summer is never forgotten.

And next summer… I hope is a whole other adventure.

Love,
Me.

Certain Things || Poem

"I miss certain things,

Like the way her eyes

Smiled with her laugh.

The way she loved, 

without looking 

At my face.

I miss certain things

About the way she moved,

Like she could push

Volcanoes in her way.

The way she talked 

Like she could 

Blind a man.

I miss certain things.

Things I never got to see.

Things I only heard about

From others who have

tasted her nectar.

I miss her.

And she doesn't even know

My name."

(Excerpt from a book | Scenario: The idiot fell in love)

"Hold your head up, child. 

Do not speak about what you saw.

Nobody will believe you, 

They'll all think you caused the fire.

Tell them, it was just an accident

And that you didn't mean to do it. 

Hold your head up, child. 

Dare you not cry about the blood. 

Everyone will think you've lost 

Your marbles.

Tell them you didn't know fire 

Spreads. 

You didn't know they'd all end up

Dead."

Cruel kill || Short Poem

Killing her was the easy part.
Shoving her into the back
Of my mind so her screams
Do not wake my demons up.

My fingertips draped her eyes shut,
my body shivered to the touch
Of flesh fresh cut cold to it's core
The inside of my nails still red.

Killing her was the easy part.
The challenge now lies in killing myself.

The Same Me || Poem

I'm still the same person,
Just more afraid of screaming the truth.

I still want the same things,
Just yearning them with a stolen youth.

I still sing with the birds,
Just with a different tempo now.

I still dance with the gravity,
Ending all my solos with a bow.

What has happened to my lips?
It's like you sucked the courage through them.

What has become of my legs?
They seem to march with another bass drum.

I'm still the same me,
I tell myself over and over.

Hoping subconsciously,
My silent brain will takeover.

My nails claw at my chest,
They want something in me to yell.

Because the scent of defeat is sickening,
And the same me can't handle the smell.

I'm still the girl in the park,
The one that left you star gazed.

I'm the friend you thought you had,
The child your mom wished she had raised.

The women with a bark,
With a silence that blinds a nation.

The same me that shot you before,
I was and still am my salvation.

I bite my way down to the core,
Find freedom through good vibrations.

I always knew you never spoke kindness,
It's okay if you're stuck in translation.

Limits || Poem

Did I offend you?
When I told you too much of the truth?
When I spoke the words that you
Never wanted to hear?

Did I offend you?
Did I bring in every single memory
You wanted to push out
Of your skull?

Did I offend you?
Did I breathe too much
Of the air you tried to hide?
Was I supposed to smile at the suffocation?

Did I offend you?
Have I upset your Gods?
Have I created a tsunami in the galaxy?
Did I make angels cry?

I don't care.

I'm far too tired of hiding.
You ripped away
layers of me,
I needed to stay sane.

I'm tired of stitching back pieces,
With needles too painful
To muster.
Stop containing a supernova.

I'm far too unapologetic,
Far too loud,
Far too bright,
To be clustered in your
Limitations.

Sometimes when you push
And you break
And you knock
On someone's breaking point.

They say something as reckless as:

I don't care.

Dear Owls, the crying sky.

Dear Owls, 

It is dark and the moon is turning away from me. It seems I have upset the universe. 

The sky is crying and I cannot reach it to wipe it's tears. I am so sorry, little baby. I cannot save you from the world. I want to, but I can't. 

The stars are gone and the earth has another way of lighting itself up; fires in every corner, explosions on the next, is this my way of coping with it? A writer, too busy with words. What will my words really heal? What will my poems really patch?

The sun does not wish to speak to me either, the moon has bitched about me again. I cannot fathom the pain, I cannot suppress the anger. What do you expect me to do about it? How do you expect me to apologize? Even if I gather all the ladders of the world, how do you want me to reach you? You're too far up, and I've fallen too deep down. 

You tell me I'm selfish. that I can but I just don't want to. You tell me you're going to tell God all about the ugly things I did. Tell him. He's going to find out from one of us anyway. I'm sorry little baby, there is nothing I can do about it but write. As I write, I bleed. As I bleed, I shed old skin. I become newer versions of the new me. Why don't you look at me? Am I too unfamiliar? Is that supposed to bother me? Why doesn't it?

I want to save the souls in need. I want to jump mountains. I want to howl with the wolves. I want to kill the bad guy. I want to show you why I ran away, you never believed me when I told you. I want to rescue the universe, but what good can I do if I can't even wipe tears of a sky I made cry in the first place? Is this what it means to have your head in the clouds? With all your winds of rage, I guess I gave airhead a whole new meaning... 

Love, 

me.

A blog entry || spontaneous

Short letters written in diaries of different people at different times.

[A soldier during WWI]

Time is dancing.
Everybody pretends to know the moves.
This race is just digging themselves deeper into the dirt.
All hope is lost, I cannot see these people succeed at anything.

[A teacher during 1992]

Time is dancing.
My students sing to the music.
They tell me about their dreams.
They lift my spirits and I see hope of future.

[A murderer during 1995]

Time is dancing.
It is slipping through my finger tips.
I need another plan to kill my wife.
She has slept with another man; my brother.

[A gardener during 1998]

Time is dancing.
Soon my family will taste melodies.
I will feed them what I feed my boss.
Only a few more days and I'm free; Time is everything.

[A firefighter during 2001]

Time is dancing.
Children are screaming and I cannot help them.
We think we are progressing but we cannot even stop a fire.
All hope is lost, I cannot see these people succeed at anything.

Cut.

It is only those who save the world, that notice that there is nothing anyone can do to actually save the people from themselves. This world is lacking kindness. It is lacking honesty. It is lacking bravery. It is lacking the emotions that were given to us to free ourselves from our demons.
Instead we lose the battle.

We want to prove a point.
We want to free the girl; then kiss the girl; then kill the girl.
We want to show the world that we are victims.
That we are Gods.
But we are humans.
And humans can love, but they choose to loathe.
And that is the only thing keeping us away from true victory.

I do not cry often, but lately I cry for the boy that lost his toy.
I cry for the girl that lost her friends. And her self esteem.
I cry for the thousands of people who choose to live hungry than die defeated.
I cry for the ones with so much money they do not know where to put it; I know a few places.

I do not cry often.
But lately, my tears are all I have to offer.

I love the world and everything it has to offer.
I'm smarter than I was before because I know when to stop letting burdens get me down.
But in my moments of weakness I catch myself loving the world too much; loving humans too much.
And even though I say I cannot stand them, sometimes it seems I cannot stand without them.

Happy New Year,
To everyone who's writing a new chapter,
a new book.
May you never lose your bookmark.

Me.