The More I Look Into Your Eyes

The more I look into your eyes,
the more I get drawn closer to you,
as if you have some intense magnetic force attracting the barbed wires and fences all over my heart.

And it’s not just my heart that you mess with,
but you also get all my other body parts turbulent.
From the whole zoo going crazy in my stomach,
to fighting the many restraints holding me from just grabbing your face and kissing your pain away.
And that’s just the censored version, baby.

Your smile melts my heart every single time.
Your eyes hypnotize me and make me forget the world for a while.
Your touch electrifies me,
and the impulse flows through every neuron in my body,
sending shivers through my spine.

I burn
I pine
I perish

And damn you for making me feel all this,
for the very first time.

—Nada Shahin

I Froze

For a moment
the sun was trying to cover your face
so your eyes shone in a perfect shade of golden brown
stealing the spotlight from the sun.
And as if that wasn’t enough,
your perfectly symmetrical smile thought it wouldn’t miss the chance to join,
making the sun feel really stupid for trying to outshine you,
so it gave up and kissed you instead,
as if the scene needed to be more spellbinding.

And I froze,
I forgot what I was saying,
but why would I even let my voice interrupt this beautiful view?
And beautiful here is an understatement.
So I froze,
and engraved this piece of art in my head,
because wasting my time trying to physically capture this moment,
would be a loss I can’t afford.

So I froze,
because that’s the most appropriate reaction I could think of.

—Nada Shahin

Dear Person trying to get closer with incomprehensible behavior

Artwork by Dai Aly

Dear Person trying to get closer with incomprehensible behavior,

I am tired of your shit. I don’t know what we are and I just can’t keep pretending it’s alright. You either won’t stop talking or won’t talk at all. And when you talk, you talk about very generic superficial boring topics. Or you reply every 12 hours, usually very early in the day or very late at night; the times when you’re most bored and lonely at. You come and go as you will. One day you’re all over the place, the other I have no idea where have you disappeared. When I tease you about your inconsistency, you blame it on me, and when I drift for a second, you make me feel like I’m the bad person. You make sure I’m hooked up and that I get used to your existence. You make your presence in my life, a habit. A very bad one. And once you sense that I’m tired of your inconsistency, you give me something to hold on to, enough to push away the doubts for a while.

But I’m tired of temporary pain killers without treating the cause. I’m tired of being treated like an antibiotic dose. And I think I deserve to know what am I to you and where do you exactly want us to go.

Am I someone you’re interested in knowing better? Because then you would speak more and get into deeper conversations. Am I someone you have feelings for? Because that is not how you treat someone you like at all. Am I a friend? Because a friend needs you to always be there no matter what.

Or am I what I fear most, something to kill time when you’re bored? Because if so, I will not accept being treated as the games on your phone when there’s no internet connection. I will not accept being treated as a TV set at 3 am. I will not accept being treated any less than the way I deserve.

So make up your mind. Decide what I am to you and try to make some effort to make it true. Decide what I am to you or just leave, because if you really think of me as a way to kill time, then I don’t want you. And next time you try to enter someone’s life, make sure you know what you want.

Not Enough

Artwork by Ernesto Artillo

 

I’ve struggled a lot to identify myself,
Been through a lot of identity crises,
But somehow only one definition of me above all did rise,

Not enough.

I’m not enough woman
Not enough daughter
Not enough friend
Not enough dentist
Not enough entrepreneur
Not enough writer

Not enough any of the things that define me and make up my identity.

I could never belong,
Never could fit in,
Because I was just

Not enough.

I’ve grown to accept the only constant in my identity,
And I’ve come to believe that
All the not enoughs in me
Make me who I am,

And that is

Enough.

Just Listen

Artwork by Dai Aly

I talk to a friend about my problems, and they try proving they’ve got bigger ones. I’m depressed and my mum asks me what’s wrong, I try to explain, so she tells me to suck it up because I’ve seen nothing yet.

And when I lose control, when the tough face I’ve forever been trying to pull falls off, and I just break down like the weak fragile person I really am, I finally gain their sympathy and attention, and all I get is: “It’s okay, we all go through a lot and it’s all in your head, if you want to be happy, you’ll figure a way out”.

If I want to be happy?
You think I want to NOT be happy?
You think I enjoy being a grenade just waiting for something to disrupt its peace and pull the pin so it could just explode and release all the pressure within?

Because I walk around constantly on the verge of breaking down, held together with worn out tape that lost function. 

Because I crave any few alone moments I can get but still hate to know that I’m lonely and I’m all on my own against this world. 

Because I overthink until my brain crashes and malfunctions, and for a while I just become the most random spontaneous irrational person, which I really am, and I either end up being grateful for it or forever overthink about it.

So don’t tell me how easy it is to be happy, because you have never been in my shoes, and you sure as hell have no idea how painful are my shoes even though they perfectly fit me.

I don’t know how to explain to you how I feel. And honestly, I never want you to understand completely because then you’ll have to go through it and I would never wish this upon anyone. 

So when I tell you what’s wrong with me, don’t tell me to be happy.

Just listen to me.

Listen to me because that might make me happy.

Break Your Walls

Artwork by Dai Aly

Break your walls,

Let me see that side of you that’s never been seen.

Let me heal the wounds beneath the scars you try to conceal.

Break your walls,

Let me fix the brokenness underneath that smile. 

Let me decipher the messages hidden in your eyes.

Break your walls,

Let your heart take off its shield and expose its deformities. 

Let your brain get naked and release its contents uncensored. 

Break your walls,

Set your soul free,

Let it collide and intertwine with mine,

Eternally. 

Break your walls,

Break my walls,

So I can finally be me.

Girl

Photo by Abdo Hassan

I dress according to my mood and it’s mostly comfortable slightly homeless looking clothes and a pair of crocs or sneakers, and I’m fine with that. I only know the names of the basic colors, I have no idea what burgundy or aquamarine are but I still have decent fashion sense and I know how to match colors even if I don’t know their names. I’m no fashionista and I find no problem in wearing the same outfit twice during the same week as long as I’ve washed it and it’s clean.

I don’t know what’s a no makeup look because this is how I look everyday because I don’t know how to wear makeup and I find no shame in that; I’m just comfortable with my natural look. I do have my days where I wake up with the mood and time to dress up and wear a little basic makeup (with the limited knowledge I have) and walk down the streets like I’m the only girl in the world, very well aware that I might not be the prettiest girl, but I sure as hell feel like one and that is what matters.

I love shoes, especially boots. For some unknown reason, wearing boots makes me feel ten times more confident and ready to conquer the world. I hate wearing high heels for the excruciating pain they bring upon my feet and the fact that they make me walk like a penguin (don’t get me wrong, penguins are cute), and so it’s a blessing that I’m already tall and don’t really need them. I wear them during special occasions just because I love the feeling of entering a place and feeling like the tallest person in the room even if for the few moments before I take them off and walk around barefooted. And I’m okay with looking elegant for a while and then have people look at the girl walking around barefooted at a wedding or at her own prom.

I love football and I might not be the craziest fan out there or a walking football encyclopedia, but I deserve to love it and not be judged based on my gender or pass an exam that goes back to who invented the game just to be approved of by the guys who love it and probably don’t know half of what I know about it. Nor do I have to prove to the girls that it’s okay to love football and still be one of them, and that after I watch the game, we can all go shop till we drop, because I sure as hell love that too more than anything.

I hate cheesy romantic songs, and I find them unrealistic and hilarious and not “aww” worthy at all. My music taste is very diverse and my favourite genre is rock. So one moment I could be listening to Metallica and the other I would be humming Frank Sinatra, and that doesn’t even have anything to do with me being or not being a girly girl, but it’s just more related to the fact that I can relate more to the lyrics of the songs I love, that I love and enjoy any kind of beautiful music, and that I’m forever alone so the romantic stuff doesn’t really get to me because you just can’t love what you don’t understand.

I walk in quick long strides and I have no idea what to do with my arms, so I either swing them around or keep them occupied with a book and a travel mug. I’m so clumsy, I sometimes spill food when I eat and I believe the right way to eat pizza is with your hands. I sit with my legs spread, I talk with my hands like my mum always tells me, I can be loud and I don’t think before I speak; but that only means I’m comfortable, and that I’m enjoying the conversation and the company. 

I have been told a countless number of times that the reason I’m still single is my non-lady like attitude and that men see me more as a buddy or a bro rather than a cute feminine lady to be loved. And that also my strong independent “I need no one I can handle it on my own” attitude pushes men away because men like to feel needed and more superior and I’m not capable of making anyone feel like that. 

I’m not a girly girl nor am I tomboy as I’ve been called most of my life. I’m just a girl, a woman, a human, and these are the only words I should be labeled with, if I were ever to be labeled in the first place. You can be one thing or do both or even be neither one at all, you can be whatever you wish to be as long as you’re happy and that’s what really matters after all.

I Write

I write, because I tend to keep my feelings and emotions in and that’s their only way out.
I write, because it’s somehow a successful attempt to organize the chaos overwhelming my mind.

I write, because if I don’t, God knows how heavy was going to be the pile on my chest.

I write, because it heals the pain in my heart.

I write, because it’s easier to express myself behind a screen rather than confront myself or others with how I feel.

I write, because neither the pen nor the keyboard suddenly stop the words coming out unless I decide to.

I write, because neither the paper nor the screen interrupt me when I speak.

I write, because only then all the perfect scenarios in my head become possible and my imagination finally finds a home.

I write, because when I do, for a while the world around me disappears and suddenly everything starts to make sense in that perfect isolated world of my own.

I write, because I hope to inspire people and that someday my writing will help someone other than me.

I write, because I crave that moment where even just one person can say: “Your words changed my life” or “Your words saved me.”

I write, because to me it’s love, passion, therapy, and a way to make myself and sometimes others, happy.

No, I’m not a writer.

I just write.

The Last Thing

This is going to be the last thing I write about you,Until you give me a very strong reason to write something new. 
And by strong reason I mean;

Telling me that you have feelings for me,

Anything else to me is completely unnecessary. 
I’ve wasted more than enough of my time and effort,

Writing about you and trying to let you know how I feel,

And it’s just about time that you do the same,

And treat me the way I believe I deserve. 
In your eyes I can see love,

But that alone is not enough. 

I need solid proof. 

I need something to hold on to.

I need you to clearly let me know,

Instead of the roller coaster of emotions your actions show,

Instead of the sea of assumptions I keep drowning into,

I just need a clear confession from you.
And if it doesn’t happen,

If in your heart there never was anything,

Then good,

I took the right decision to give up on you,

Cleared a place in my heart for someone new,

And got the closure I’ve been craving since forever now. 

The Pile

I tried to get rid off the pile on my chest,
They told me it was better for me,

And I listened unfortunately. 
Because people were used to me always being discrete,

Trying to handle things on my own,

Trying to always seem happy,

They were bewildered watching me let things out.
They couldn’t comprehend it at all,

And took it as offensive and aggressive manner.

So in return they started to fire back,

And I just couldn’t handle and explain the false accusations they’ve been shooting at me. 
So I stayed quiet,

I kept things in again,

Piled my feelings on top of each other, 

And simply walked away,

Just like I used to.
It seems like this is the only way I can function through,

It seems like the only me people know.