The Cairene

I was hesitant. Always dithery and anxious about my choices. I knew the rights and wrongs, the left and right but still couldn’t decide. I waited, paused, crawled and stopped. I was always at the same place, rarely moved forward. It was safe and boring. I was jaded, by my stillness. Fear haunted me. I had to run. Fear cracked the whip for me. I ran. I didn’t get to choose and the pavements passed by me so fast. I knew a lot, saw more and lived many lives. My brain was nourished by scenes and my soul was quenched by experiences. I got tired and still kept running. I wanted to witness more and nothing else mattered. I was jaded, by life. I stopped running. And now, I am breathless, and proud, of my being.

Sitting at the quietest nook of the house with my darkest thoughts and insecurities, they are always my best companions. Embraced by the darkness and the cold breeze, listening to the saddest playlist anyone could ever create and here comes the worst part; always saved for last. The song that reminds me of the past and how every line and chorus awaken the cities lying on the outskirts of my soul. It numbs my body and stir up the liquids which protects every cell of my brain. Skip the song, Reem, just skip it. I have no idea who the other character is, but some abstract voice comes up and tells me to keep on listening. I am confused and the memory lane is passing before my mind, blinding my eyes but the past scenes and it feels like everything is happening right now. All over and over, the rush of feelings races inside the allies of my veins, it’s painful. I almost forgot where I am. Past is past but it’s not just past, it’s even more. I don’t think you can’t escape it, erase it no

Putting on some good music which brings back lots of faces, situations and fast flashbacks, I looked into my own life and found myself bewildered, not sure if I should smile, nod or weep. The shuffle queerly knew my mood and decided to force me to listen to the songs I despise the most for some reasons I am too lazy to bring up. Self's forecast is expecting a huge storm of memories and floods of disastrous events. I am supposed to confront it and that is where suddenly I realized that the things that keep you going at times are the same things that will tear you up and watch you fall apart.

The night sent its warmth into her wounded soul, twisted mind and  over her sapless body that all her scars bled open- where the cold breeze raced with the moon's flames; Both too wildly furious.  Yet,   her scars won't let them  into her wounded soul, twisted mind or over her sapless body, because, They are too loud, even louder Than her inner voices, When all she needs is Peace of mind.

Dear Egypt,  I am so fed up and done with you. I forced myself to taste all your bittersweet hope, but I don't think I can swallow it for any longer. I don't even have enough energy to mention your flaws or traits; you are exhausting-both physically and mentally. Your oxygen is toxic and your air is the rope around my neck. Don't try to prove me wrong, you have buried a lot below your land and that's why I might be generous enough to consider you sacred. I can't blame it all on you, but there is no one else to blame. They died for you and all you offered was a sink for their blood and a graveyard for their wounded bodies. I shouldn't be putting lots of effort to even write about you, it is all pointless. It is even more pointless because I have no idea why I love you. You are confusing me because we aren't asking for too much and instead, you take more than you need. You don't need hungry or cold or bruised souls. It doesn't matter if they are dead

Wondering about the connection between winter and the memory lane, I had no justification for it except that the freezing weather and long nights leave us sleepless for long enough. We end up drowning in the floods of memories till we reach the rock bottom of nostalgia. As for me, my memory path is too blurry and lacks details and that's how I find myself missing the ones I have never met, feeling nostalgic to places I have never been to and humming perfectly to music I have never heard before. The worlds I made up is what make me feel warm; all alone, under the cover, I let my eyelids come down and start watching the universes beneath my skin.

بعد تطوّر الاحداث في كلية هندسة القاهرة قررت اني هاحكي كل حاجة بالتفاصيل لتوضيح الامر تماما. منذ بداية العام الدراسي و دايما كان بيكون فيه مظاهرات صغيرة عددها 100تقريبا (لم اتقن العد) داخل الجامعة تهتف ضد حكم العسكر و مؤيدة لرابعة. ماكنش بيكون فيه اي مشاكل و لا اشتباكات داخل هندسة مع العلم ان كان فيه ايام بيكون فيه برّة عند مسلّة جامعة القاهرة اشتباكات بس كانت مش بتدوم طويلا. يوم الخميس 28 نوفمبر, كان فيه وقفة كبيرة برّة عند جامعة القاهرة و كان الطلبة اللي عاملين مسيرة جوة هندسة واقفيت عند الباب الرئيسي لكلية هندسة الذي اُغلق امامهم لمنعهم من الخروج عند المسيرة الاكبر و ربما اغلقه الامن الجامعي لسلامة الطلاب لشدة الاشتباكات في الخارج. الطلبة ظلّوا يريدون فتح الباب و الخروج مع العلم ان الباب الخلفي عند مبني اعدادي كان ايضا مغلقا لموقعه جانب كمين الداخلية و دبابات الجيش المحيطة بالجامعة. تك القاء اول قنبلة غاز داخل كلية هندسة و اصدمت بمدني الادارة الموجود امام الباب الرئيسي تماما و تم القاء القنبلة الثانية و تطايرت بعيدا تماما عن مكان الطلبة المتجمعين عند الباب الرئيسي لتستقر امام

You wanted to be nice to everyone. You only never let them down and be there. You wanted them in your life, you did your best for them to take their seats inside your universe even if it meant that their weight will stop you from floating. But you saved their place and lifted them, hefty, over your shoulders and chest. You didn’t expect much, just a little even if it would never be enough, yet you kept holding their thrones, all above yours. You ignored your ego alerts and dignity’s fatigue. You muted your inner voices of “People always leave” and you stayed around. And now, you are sinking down inside the soft sands and muddy puddles and stormy seas; no life jackets can save you. You are feebly powerless to even save yourself, and you know it so well, it’s them and only them who can actually save you. It’s a reverse theory as only their weights can save you when weights should normally magnetize you down. But they don’t want to be your royal family, not anymore. You give up on yo

Egyptians do really need a reminder  to help them flash back to Egypt before January's revolution, right away after the revoluion and Egypt today.  Pushing aside the political battles and cunning crawls to reach the presidency chair, we need to zoom our lenses on the prevailing state of Egyptians' status to the government and police. Thus, I decided to write this letter to everyone who's taking their eyes off the turmoil happening here, to every person who sleep off their guilty conscience using the cheap excuse of "terrorism". Dear Sir/Ma'am, As a start, I am asking you to get back to your archive and search for the name "Khaled Saeed". Exactly, that guy who was brutally beaten to death by some police officer because he uploaded a video which detains their over the internet. That strong man, he was the spark, the candle and the flame for every single Egyptian. He moved everyone and stung the freedom-soft-spot inside every Egyptian citizen. He

I watched my mother as she approached to hand me the cup of dark coffee, I watched her face’s reflection inside the cup, I watched her eyes getting narrower and her wrinkles digging up bolder and her collar bones popping out to more visible.  I looked up at her and thanked her. She smiled at me and I saw the gap of her lost teeth. Her smile was genuine. I kept trying to remember any good deed I have done throughout my life for God to grant me that amazing person. I didn’t find any. I looked at my coffee and saw my face growing old. I watched my eyes getting narrower and my wrinkles digging up bolder and my collar bones popping out to be more visible. I looked up again and she was gone. I smiled to my reflection and saw my face marks and tried to read them. It was blurry, I couldn't. I took a sip of coffee; it was still warm.

When I grow up, I want to open a school where I teach the students how to deal with life. How to love themselves and others in return, how to get over losing someone and how to deal with a special person's death. I want the students to know how to accept their flaws, know their mistakes, apologize and admit when they are wrong. I want to let them know when hang onto something and when to let go of it, when to give up(yes, sometimes it is a choice) and when to keep going. I want the students to practice art and music, maybe knitting and cooking too. It should be a place where what is inside its fenced borders is as exactly the same as what is beyond the borderlines. I don't know why everyone focus on the typical routine of "education" that it reach the point where some weak students commit suicides because of a tough exam. Back in high and middle school, I studied English, Arabic, History, Physics, Biology and the rest of the science courses. I studied music and art,

It’s 7 am and I have been awake since last night. My thoughts are wandering about every edge and sidewalk of my brain. The walk isn't so good for my thoughts because you are there in every corner; a crack my thoughts stumble upon every once in a short while. There is no way I can fix those cracks and it sucks.  It’s 7 am and I have been awake since last night. I am not supposed to be thinking about you at all. I have made accords with my other self that I am so over you, but tonight the agreement was rescinded and now the wars inside my mind have begun. The dead buried unhealthy thoughts are brought back to life, the long gone forgotten sadness are put on and I am falling. It’s not a safe place anymore. It’s 7 am and I have been awake since last night. I have been remembering you and I hate it as much as I really like you. Severally, I abhor you and dislike the fact that I have once liked you and now,  I want you  I don’t know. I don’t want to be yours, I don’t want you to

"I love you", my lips whispered to the breeze. I don’t know who I am talking to or who should I be saying those three words to. It doesn’t matter. Words no longer know their way through me as much as I know mine through their maze.  I like to write. I like the fact that I am writing now. I am not sure what I am writing, but it is art. I consider it one because right now, I am painting my brain and adding the last glimpses of confusion on my painting through kicking it all out in this pointless piece. "I love you". These there words again. I don’t know who I am talking to or who should I be saying those three words to. I have no clue. The last time someone said these words to me was today. A close friend of mine said them to me, and they had no a single effect on me. I didn’t even blink. It is weird. "I love you", "Bahebak/ek", "Seni seviyorum", "Je t’aime", "Te amo"..In all the languages, it was proven scienti

Before you go and hurt someone,  know you’ll be hurting yourself  all along. Before you go and hurt someone,  Please think again, and d on’t. You don’t know what they are going through, and what your harsh words might do. I am not asking you to care, just- don’t get there.  So before you go and hurt someone,  try to find an excuse for their mistakes, and forgive. I’ll leave forgetting to you anyway. Before you go and hurt someone,  Remember how you hate being judged, as well as being mocked or called by names. Remember that life is not so fair, I know,  but I also know that it’s still pretty fair- enough to hurt  you as bad.  Before you go and hurt someone,  Don’t think of Karma. We don’t care. Think of yourself or feeling bad about it. And know that it could really get to others, So please, stop yourself and don’t go anywhere. I hurt someone before, and I hurt myself.  I wish I read this post before I go. But here we are, don’t let

I curled up in my mother's womb for 9 months, alone. I used to be scared of the dark during my childhood, alone. I taught myself how to make friends and failed, So I remained alone. I taught myself, as a kid, how to wear socks, alone. I taught myself how to knot the lace, alone. I walked from and to school, alone. I grew up, I learnt, I fell, I hurt and got hurt, alone. I failed, tried, failed again then succeeded, alone. I read myself to sleep, I cried myself to sleep, Alone. I have a lovely big family, but I preferred to remain as I was brought, To this busy cruel world,                                                                          Alone. I fought my demons and befriended my angels, alone. I learnt how to make friends, the right way I loved, hated, liked and disliked, alone. I loved, hated, liked and disliked, alone. Alone. I committed my sins and did few good deeds, alone. I prayed and leaned and pled for forg

Right now, I am sitting by the shore, with the warming sunrays falling all over my swollen skin and charging It with protons of positive energy. I won’t ask for an umbrella, I will let it penetrate me; I need it. The waves’ sound softly hit my ear drums and I loved their melody, accompanied with the laughs and giggles coming from  the people around me. They are happy, I can tell it from their faces. They are happy, but let’s not generalize because we never know. I watch the splashing waves and get involved with their beats inside my ears. It feels good. I am actually amused because I suddenly have found the answer; it’s nature. All the family members are reuniting together, happily, to have fun and a good swim in the salty water. It doesn't matter how salty the water is because all the talks are sweet and filled with love, warmth and unity. It’s the nature, locking up all the chains and bonds of families, relatives and friends.  I look around again, searching for someone on thei

Today, I was chatting with a friend of mine when I had to look down at the keyboard searching for a number. I don’t usually need to search around for letters but today I did and that’s not the case. I noticed my wrist, hands, not so thin but long fingers and my fair soft skin covering my flesh. I gazed at my veins stream, which are probably not popped out enough for me to recognized them, and then the image of my Grandma’s (May her pure soul rest in peace) hands vividly stroke my mind. I remembered how veiny and shaky her hands were. They were all full of light brown spots and ageing freckles.  It amuses me how things change with no remarkable transition stage. I am almost 19 and I didn’t know the back of my hands so well, and I probably can’t remember how it looked like when I was six. I never noticed although I wish I had. It’s amusing how skin can scan the age in such a divine way. I know I am just talking about the skin of the hands now, let away the face, its marks, wrinkles and

Since the day you held my tiny body, kissed my forehead and sang me to sleep. Since the day you watched me grow up and become who I am today. Since the day you helped to be organised and patient. Since the day you taught me how to fold my shirts. Since the day you taught me how to not press so deep while writing in pencil so I can erase the mistakes easily. Since the day when I went to Grade 2 and you were so proud that I was one of the first students in my class to be writing in pen. Since the day you taught me how to pray and how recite perfectly Qura'an with Tajweed. Since the day you stood on your feet for 5 hours when I was doing surgery. Since the day you taught me how to use the fork and knife and how to eat like a classy young lady. Since the day you taught me how to treat people and how to cross the street. Since the day you taught me everything and worked so hard to make sure I have a safe future, till the day I watched you grow old and weary Till the day I watched you,

I know I hate kids and I am so nervous around them, yet I really can't wait to have my own so I write interesting bedtime stories, smile as they beg me to read it to them in bed, witness the fire glowing in their eyes as they listen to me reading it, and then watch them fall asleep before I reach the end.  I want to write them stories about revolutions, war and peace. Fiction and non fiction. Reality and fantasy, love and hate. But most importantly, I want to write them stories that won't ruin their adulthood, stories where everything is real. They will thank me for it later, I guess. Note: Parents who don't read to their kids, you're doing it wrong.

Right now, I am staying in my room by my own, eating ice-cream off the family-sized jar and wondering why I am not outdoors chilling or meeting anyone who could make my life a little bit interesting. I stopped typing for a while. I am still frozen in my place like the ice-cream I am eating (it’s not really frozen), but what? I can’t think of anyone to hang out with. I am trying to re-think, but I know my brain won’t let me since it is screaming; “You will die alone, sad and alone”. But wait, won’t we all? I am not sure but I know I might. I am a sinner. I am a hopeless sinner, a bad person, a liar and a hypocrite. I don’t know what should I label myself with or if I should label myself or not, but I’d rather do it than let anyone label me. I’ve lied to people, hurt some, pushed away many and let down the rest. And before all, I have been a bad person, to myself. I looked back way too many times and I realized that the bad will always win, even though if your good was of a

He knew her. He knew her secrets, and every single lie and mistake in her life. He knew her flaws, all her insecurities and how she was perfectly imperfect. He knew her fears of heights and her love for hiking. He knew her pain and all its reasons. He knew her scars and all the stories behind each, in details. He knew her mind, her inner voices and heart stitches. He knew the places of her scar-less wounds, inch by inch. He knew her current bruises and the ones which faded away. He knew every hickey she had from random guys before him, and he gave her more. He knew her very special birthmark on her lower part of her chest; he blew her many kisses over it before. He knew the heat of her body, with all of its temperatures and levels. He knew when she felt breathless before she could even feel her chest pains. He knew when she was going to cry before the tears even reached her eyes. He knew her favorite songs by The XX and The Fray, and the chorus she loved the most. He repeated them for