a daylight dream

To all of you who are currently on the road to self-love, I'd like to tell you this: it gets easier. It really does, and it's a fact. But, it takes some determination and self-actualisation. It's not something that happens overnight, and perhaps not a state you could reach for good. There will always be lapses and minor break downs because, it was once a habit to hate yourself and put it down. It was once something deeply ingrained in your mind and body and we, as biological organisms, need to give ourselves time to heal and get cured. It's difficult to ascertain the fact that some time one year and a half ago, I hated every particle of myself. To be honest, I liked some of my personality traits but still, I was putting myself down all the time. Looking back at my old pictures and journal entries, I marvel at how far I've come. I used to look in the mirror and shred myself into pieces, but in those pictures, I look beautiful.. and I didn't see it.

I'm addicted to waking up in the morning a few minutes before the sun rises up before me. I love being greeted by the crisp breeze as I'm unable to fully grasp the view in front of me, because my eyes aren't quite used to the enormity of light, having woken up after a magnitude of darkened dreams. I love hearing the blackbirds chirping. I love waking up feeling grateful. I'm addicted to going to the balcony sometime after sunset, when the sky becomes beautifully violet, trying to capture the particular moment when my eyes would see the world in grey, but I'm always disappointed as the street lights switch on a minute too soon.   I'm addicted to spending the hour before I sleep in the balcony, staring at the sky. I had discovered a triangle of stars, always pointing to the north. More specifically, it points in quite a three-dimensional manner upwards, towards the space full of mystery and chimerical magic.   And during that hour, I'm addicte

I've been planning to actually write this post for a long time now. It's been a little bit over than a month since I travelled to Budapest by bus. Five hours through Slovakia and Hungary, through hilly steppes and dazzling sunflower fields was adequate to spark my poetic side. I wrote a few poems, dreamed a few dreams, hoping I'd make them real someday, and listened to some inspiring music. We were accompanied by a travel guide, who exerted a lot of effort in the heat explaining the history behind Budapest, but to be honest, no one was listening. I, personally, was captivated by the mesmerising architecture and profound beauty of the city. It's beyond beautiful. The vast squares, the arrays of palaces and monumental buildings followed by each other, the small packs of quiet tourists passing around. Unlike Prague, Budapest was quiet and calm and it was substantially easier to just stand for a while, take a picture and imagine those who built this city. How I admi

The end of September is approaching, and it had been a beautiful, calm and productive month, compared to last year. Last September's confusion, stillness and torpidity didn't suit me. It didn't suit my dreams nor my purpose but I took those baby steps towards the change I am experiencing this year. It's been one year since I created this blog and it's one of the best decision I've ever made. 2.6k views is a young number, but it's a start. This blog is my outlet, my instrument of discovery that I am proud to publish to everyone. It makes me happy to see people reading my posts and relating to them profoundly, through my experiences. I know I might touch on subjects and feeling that are too peculiar to relate to, but that's the point. Everything on here is inscrutably phrased. It's mysterious. An outlet that is crude and cognition-lacking. A description of things just as they cross my mind, and I don't have to interpret whether they are ri

As much as I believe my intuition is a virtue, in my society, it's often taken as granted. In order to win, I need to act tough. I need to act as if I'm invincible. I need to act whatever happens doesn't affect me. More that I used the word 'act' instead of be, and that is where the problem comes. I cannot act, I can only be. And even those times I act in, I fail hideously.   The other day, I was supposed to meet a teacher to pick up some work materials. We were supposed to meet on a specified hour in some place. 5 minutes before, I was already in the venue, waiting as usual. Half an hour passed, and she did not come. I called, she said there was traffic but it was already clearing up.. she promised me another fifteen minutes. So I waited. I waited for an hour and a half. I was forced to leave because I was in the car, sweating and getting a sun stroke, with the temperature at its highest peak for the day. My dad, of course, was nervous

just a nostalgic moment. missing those trees on the side of the road. It mesmerises me how much I've changed these past few years, or more specifically, matured. I remember calling myself that lax, calm and sedentary-loving person who would enjoy time doing nothing at all. But it's all disparate now, and I can't manage to basically sit down for 10 minutes without having something real and thought-provoking on my mind.   Last year, around this time, just before I created this blog (it's almost a year old!), my life was floating in boredom and it was agitating. Had I the choice, I would have done more things to make my day more exciting but I had limited ideas; ones that revolved around taking courses in random fields and getting alienated by them in a week's time. However, things have started to change this year hence my status right now; I'm preoccupied. Perhaps it's because I'm taking a step forward towards the niche that best suits my pa

"Stop your crying." "Dry your tears." "Don't cry." "Calm down." Aren't these statements we hear everyday? In every song? In every drama? For the first time, I truly understand the importance of crying although I did not decipher it at first. Holding it back and creating this overwhelmingly fake positive energy while a mind is blaring with storming sadness isn't always a good choice. It isn't always healthy. It isn't healing. The last 3 years, I've been teaching myself not to break down. My tears were some kind of sign of weakness that I didn't like to deal with for I had to spend the night concealing the sounds and yelps accompanied by those tears. To make things easier, I made a choice to hold back those strong and true emotions. To feel them inwardly. To let them reincarnate within my body and blow me up later on. I didn't understand. Sometimes I wonder why I get those episodes of extre

Last week was pretty tough in miscellaneous ways that are too painful to describe. Let me start by saying that I didn't feel like myself; my intuition was shadowed by some kind of fear I have not witnessed before. To be honest, I had anxiety attacks on several nights on which I'd end up shaking, crying and not being able to breathe. On those nights I asked myself "why?". Why I was feeling that way? What was happening to me? What is so secretly concealed within that it rising up to the surface and changing everything? Why? Why? Why? When I'm afraid, I'm usually tense and shivery but this time, the fear was deeply embedded and it just caused me to be so overcast by worries and false identities of myself. My behaviours explained a lot; I didn't laugh nor smile, wasn't even able to hug my sister, awful episodes of emotional eating that would lead me to beating myself up the whole day and most importantly, a self-hate I couldn't control.

There is this fleeting moment when we are in bed, and I can imagine your breaths floating downwards, falling softly on your chest. I can hear your eyes shutting silently, eyelids fluttering with conserved energy and the blackness starting to soak our consciousness in a time too swift. The night light in the background is making an entrance every once in a while and I feel you tossing and turning, rearranging yourself on the pillows. Our feet touch; mine cold and yours warm and cosy, we feed off each other and smile. There's this time before we sleep when we try hard to resist the urge to just go blank; just a few seconds of our brains trying to review the day's occurrences in divergent lenses. Popping up, we watch them and a moment later, the blackness prevails and we no longer resist nor fight. There's this time when we feel our dreams positioning before us; a glimpse of our humanity before we fade. We see ourselves, surroundings and stimuli, we find our environment

That's a pretty late post but I can't help it. There are so many things going on at the moment; too many vibes, moments to cherish, wounds to heal.. etc. It's has been like that in August lately. I think this month is quite impacting for everyone as it signifies endings of beautiful summer times, school work and more life chapters to finish reading. It's rather tragic to hold on to August with this longing attitude because who doesn't feel rather tempted to shed some tears as the trees start to colourise and the weather gets cooler? Doesn't it just shake you a little? Every August, I witness the life cycle in saddening airs because I tend to dwell on the hope of spring and the presence of summer. I wish I could just go back to February right now, and watch the spring all over again. I love you. But it doesn't work that way, does it? I've got to move on, shed some airport tears, go back to Egypt and work it all out. There is a fear gnawing on the