Dear Owls, lost but home.

Dear Owls,

I'm losing my mind over a world that offers me nothing but more questions to a question. I'm drunk on ideas, drunk on possibilities and drunk on nothing but reckless thoughts that will get me nowhere. What do they call a place for people like us? Daydreamers, locked inside the prison of their mind, forever questioning everything that comes to them. Or doesn't come to them.

I'm too much of an Arab in Dubai and too much of a Westerner in my hometown. I'm too loud, too opinionated but too quiet and fragile voiced. I'm too much of something but also too much of something else at the same time. I'm too religious, but too open minded. I'm too much but not enough. And where do they put people like me? Where do they store us when they need us? And where can I find more of me? More of confusion. Because, ironically, two confused people clear each other's vision. It is a sanity pill finding someone who is as confused, as dazed as I am. I am lost in my mind. Lost between wanting to know more and never wanting to reach the finish line.

And here I am, years later, asking the same question: what is life? 

Sometimes, I lose myself to the thoughts of "could've been", "should've been" and never really being. The reason I haven't written for so long, was because I was so afraid of saying the wrong thing. So afraid of just blogging again. I sometimes forget that I started this blog to clear my mind, to remember that thoughts can be put into words if pinpointed. There is something so gorgeous about this world, a screen that everyone's eyes glistens to, except mine. Not that I don't find anything beautiful, rather I don't know where the magic happens. 

To my dear owls, I'm torn between the many realities I have set out for myself. I'm going on mini adventures in my brain and none of them are taking me to a destination. And so, I sit here in the comfort of my bedroom, the mountains, the middle of the ocean... lost. And yet so at home.

Yours always,

Me.