I like being true to myself-and what I feel. I don't have to pretend anymore-at least not to myself. I love acting up there, hate pretending down here.

Its funny how I'm more loyal to the ring that is not a ring-than to that which physically burdened my finger at some point in time.

to be there
in entirety
i must first
Be
in entirety

خايفة
فشخ

If nothing else, i was introduced to Puscifer:)
I hate that ppl think im too "cute" to listen to tht
im not gonna fucking explain myself to anyone-i like it-deal w/it
im so happy he doesnt read this shit

What would you have me say today? That I love you more than life? That I think of you with every spare unemployed gray braincell I have? That I can't imagine myself lying beside any other body than yours?

well I won't.

مبروك عالأرض

جزمة
أنا جزمة
جزمة فى مخى
قديمة

جزمة
أنا باخد بالجزمة
جزمة سيد سيدى
الغالية

جزمة
أنا بترمى زى الجزمة
عالجزمة القديمة
وإقلب

جزمة
أنا اشتريت جزمة
جزمة مانولو بلانيك
بتوجع

جزمة
أنا صلحت جزمة
جزمة جدتى
ولمعتها

العقد

مش هعقدها
هى متعقدة كفاية خلقة
هقلع النظاره الورديه
والسوده كمان
عشان أشوف
وأعيش

بحبك

I don't mind not being seen except by a few- makes me feel like that last piece of chocolate you wrapped up and forgot in your bag last week...when its discovered in a severe state of hunger

This Is How I Feel About You Right Now

الفرح

طول مانا قاعدة
بحاول أفتكرلِك حاجة كويسة
بحاول وما بحاولش فى نفس الوقت
ولما ما لقيتش
فرحت

At some point, you have to accept your own company. Not just accept it-suffice with it. At some point you have to stop waiting for someone else to complete the picture...its already complete.

واحد

انا عمرى ما فكرت فى فكرة الضلع
لغاية ما عرفتك
وعرفت قد إيه الواحد ممكن يتوجع
بسبب حد تانى
ويفضل يحبه
أكن الحب ده بير مالوش اّخر
دورت كتير جوه مخى على السبب
ما لقيتش غير تفسير واحد:
مين أكتر حد بيستحملنى؟
أنا
يبقى أنا حته منه

واحد

I think I'm very close to not giving a flying fuck....finally...took me long enough

I really love what I wrote yesterday-bas khalas-might be back later-usually depends on my level of "pissed off" ness.

It really would be nice to hold someones hand today. I like holding hands.

one final thing: I think this cat and mouse game is disgusting, immature. This pathetic game of meen yet2al 3ala meen aktar is pure, non-refined bullshit. Teenage pimple drama. A7a!

Welcome to the trashcan of my thoughts:)...just how I felt about writing in my blog today...nothing crucial to say, no fancy way of putting it...just output.

I've been wondering all day about something. Do we really fall in love again? After you've been in love and you've given it your all and it fails and you eventually give up..do you fall in love again?

I know its a stupid question. I know we do. Its just that there's this annoying phase after breakups where you're absolutely closed. It's the phase right after the searing pain and the numbness. You don't hurt anymore, but its like a steel wall has very efficiently been built around your heart. It becomes untouchable. You function perfectly well...every little part of you...except for that organ.

Come to think of it-its a very empowering feeling: when you're not being hauled around by your heart.

over&out

إكبرى يا بنت
إكبرى وكبرى معاكى قلبك
قلبك وحضنك

جتت
جتّة متلقحة حنب جتّة
أهى محاولة

حضن- قبل التحلل والتراب

Just cuz you feel it doesn't mean it's there

there there

Of Spine and Men

i realized something yesterday. not happy with it. will probably never have the balls to do it. but hey! at least im aware of it now. at least now i know what should be done...and never do it. Yay me.
when there is a man in my life, i become a clear case of arrested development. The minute im manless (i was actually going to say the minute my life is empty-which so proves that this is NEVER going to go beyond an enlightening theory for me)...i develop opinions, creativity flows, i blossom and branch out into so many wonderful new directions.
Do i blame the man? Wish i cud-but no. Im sick and tired of women always blaming men for everything. Take some responsibility, we've just become so comfortable with the "its the man's fault" excuse that its such a hassle to get off our asses and actually do something instead of all the boo-hooing.
so its my fault. 100%. I have an automated switch in my head:man out of life:"ON", man in life: "OFF". When im with a man, i feel obliged to sculpture myself to his liking and preferences. Not at all in a deceitful way-its more of an accommodating ritual...honoured by our damn society.
Does this mean its either manless or spineless? At the beginning of this post, that's what i thought..but on second thought...hell no! I will find a way to be me as fully as achingly possible AND as accommodating as womanly possible to my man (simply because i love it). I will have both the man and the spine please, thank you.

just so that we're crystal clear about this: love is a bitch! If I could get my hands on that filthy tramp id scratch her face so bad she'd be gushing blood from every little square inch of that pretty little face-id render her completely unrecognizable..then..id get a hammer and cripple her-for fucking life-we're talking arms, hands, fingers, legs, knees, feet, toes...toe by fucking stinking toe.
Clearly, im not a fan.

unsick

I'm up against the wall again. I somehow always manage to walk myself straight up to that same wall, politely turn around, and press my back against it-like a good little girl. Now...I'm beginning to suspect that if its becoming a pattern...I do it because I like it. Sick. Subconsciously, of course. But still-sick.
Wait...what is sick anyway? and what's..."unsick"? Damn! I hate it when im comfortably writing about little egotistical nothings and an annoying, pain in the ass question decides to grace my already messed up head with its unwanted presence. ناقصة أنا؟! ما هى متلصمه خلقة! أحا!
Ok, lets get it over with. Sick, psycho. What? we use this word or that when describing a peculiarity of character. Something that "society" would"gasp" at. God! just that last sentence makes me wanna do "pycho" all the time!(Yes-im racist). Look, lets cut a looooong, boring story short...
In society, there is a uniform way of doing things. We know every little rule by heart. Act out our roles to perfection. The refined, cultured you. The "representation" of that which is "Human" (just in case God or aliens are watching)
And then there's the other you. The "sick" you. The "psycho" me. Inside our heads. Our closest relationships. Our homes. Rooms. Closets. Bags. Ipods. Fridges. Bookshelves. Prayers. Dreams. Beds. Garbage cans.
I stink at conclusions. Conclusions stink anyway. You do the math-or not. Don't care.

Sometimes I go and hide inside music-where its safe-like today

Is there a forever thing? Im beginning to think not- not bitterly so-on the contrary. What if we're all so hooked up on the "till death do us (freakin finally!) part" that we don't see that relationships are actually meant to have a beginning, middle and end?

I think we're too conditioned by "that which is universally known to be the norm"..not to mention scared shitless to admit it.

At the core of it all I think it's our phobia of endings. Why do we have a phobia of endings? Let's delve...could it all be stemming from our final "ultimate" ending? Dying? Just because we don't know what's next? Could be. Could it be because we're also "conditioned" to believe that after death its a 50/50 chance? ElDar aw Elnar? Could be. So its the fear of the unknown, basically.

If a relationship ends, we are stuck with just ourselves to vouch for our worthiness. We don't have a partner to verify our worth..that we're worth spending time with, committing to. So we derive our worth-not from within-but from without.

I have nothing more to say right now-too confused by what I just wrote.

Lord Vader, rise.

wait...so this is where i fall to pieces-right?
wrong.

There is a point
exquisitely hidden
by human tissue
and busy veins,
called “No Return”

Situated
deep within
the crimson folds
“to the left, to the left”

I was lost-couldn’t find it
Until you gave me the map
You had drawn in blood
Drawn from me
For me

When you held me
Then a her (sanctity discovered)



When you kissed me
Then a her (sanctity admired)



When you touched me
Then a her (sanctity desired)



When you inhaled me
Then
Her [sanctity molested]



Which brings us back
to the point
referred to
on the map
as

“X”

Why is it only within folds of pain that you become the greatest most pure form of yourself? Where clarity illuminates everything, and everyone-especially yourself? Why is pain the price you have to pay to experience your true humanity? And why wasn’t I given a say in it? Why wasn’t I asked if I’d like to participate in this freak show or not? Of course, I have to assume there is a purpose to all this that just hasn’t been revealed yet (surprise! surprise!)-or I’ll go insane. Sometimes I wish I could go insane.

Depart

How many times must I mourne you?

I crave an honest to God conversation. No bullshit.