أنا تعبت

لم يخطر بباله أن من الممكن للمرء أن يستهلك كل الطاقة التي تستريح بداخله، تغذي الروح و تصبر القلق الفكري الذي ليس له مشاغل أهم من تعذيب عقولنا ببطء. وبمزاج. كان ظنه ببرائة بنت في الخامسة عشر من عمرها أمام ولد تكتب عنه في مذكرتها كل يوم وليلة. الطاقة الروحية والنفسية كعدد الجرات والسكون، رب لا يموت، ولا يفنى...

وفي يوم مصاحب لساعات طويلة ودقائق أطول، نظر إلى نفسه في مرآة الحمام، نظر إلى نفسه المرهقة الفانية، التي التهمتها الأفكار المستبدة، و الدقائق المسروقة، الذكرايات الضائعة والكلام المكتوم، في بكاء داخلي و تعاسة تبدو أبدية، نظر إلى كل ذرة من طاقته تترك جسده وتهجره...

استدار لكي يخرج إلى المطبخ ويعد لنفسه كوب من ورق الشاي الحزين، شعر بدفئ الكوب ودفئ جسده يتبادلون المحادثة  حيث خرج ليجلس بمقعده المفضل في البلكونة ، التقت نفس عميق في حزنه،

"أنا تعبت."

وجلس في ضعف...

I'll See You Soon

And like the celestial bodies that walk the bigger skies that cover us, while more or less than half of who's down here sleep soundlessly, others worriedly. I know that you sleep too. After a long day of doing whatever it is that fills your hours. Whatever it is that you'll tell me about one day. A day  with whoever they are who get to hear you talk. I'll forget a few of their names because some of them won't be there anymore, some of them you won't remember because they hurt you badly or maybe because they didn't hurt you enough, because of their incompetence in leaving a part of them in you, in taking a part of you to keep.

I know that you wake up everyday. In the middle of the night, you dream, like me and like every soundless breath and calm heart in this world. Tell me if you lose yourself like I do when I die for a while at night. Tell me if you find life in night's death. Tell me if you sleep at all.

I know you walk the world in love with her, the girl who fractured you, and left you limping. And I can only hope that you pull most of the splinters she left out, and I promise you I'll take care of the rest. 

Sometimes I wonder if both you and I ever crossed paths, if our lives ever intersected. And hopefully in an intricate whole of a world that will bring us together one day, I'll see you soon...

When I was eight I kissed a boy on his cheek and never told my parents. I could feel my eight year old feet cold and shaking, we slow danced to our third eight year old friend singing and I can't remember the song. I never told you that.

You know about how my grandma and I aren't close and barely talk, did you know that I never *really*  hugged her. Not even once, I just let her hug me. I hope she knows that I really love her, and that I'm very very sorry for not even trying.

My parents were going to name me Malak, I lost a friend called Malak when I was in fourth grade because I was a very mean person. We were never friends again. But we make small talk now, a casual hi everyday. I lost a lot of friends.

I looked at you once, a couple of years before we met and had no idea that I'd one day love you, have you, lose you, and forget you.

I can't keep secrets, I think you know that. I'm not always there. I used to take piano lessons and by the fourth forced attempt I ran out crying because I wanted my mom.
I liked a guy called Omar for two years, he was very mean to me. We don't talk anymore. Why didn't I tell you about him?

I talk more than I listen, and I never say what's supposed to be let out.

My mom doesn't know about my perfume bottle collection. In a big box. In my dresser.

I don't answer my phone because I don't want to. I like being alone. I love being sad. It makes me write. I hate what I write. I've always been jealous even though I said it seventy-seven times, "I'm not the jealous type". I see myself as a number seven. I see people as numbers, I see numbers in people. I don't have a number for you. And I don't have a number for my brother.

I have journals, and call them diaries. I cry. A lot. And I love it.

I should've told you enough, I owe you that and I'm sorry.

And until I have someone else to write to and about, I hope you don't mind me writing to and about you. Another thing you don't know, I thank you everyday.

سأراكِ قريباً

سأراكِ قريباً في كلمات رسالة لم أُرسلها لكِ بعد ولن أُرسلها أبداً

سأراكِ في  ذكرى ظلت معي، تطعم اشتياقي القاسِ

سأراكِ في حلم قصير، كم من اللحظات الفانية، سأرتب فيها ما أتذكره من ملامِحك. من كلِماتِك

سأراكِ في ظل خيال طامع

سأراكِ قريباً و ستهجري كل الأماكن و كل الأزمان

سأراكِ قريباً حتى أنسى كل ما لم تتركيه لي من بقائك. حتى تتركي لي ما تبقى مني

سأراكِ قريباً