Month: September 2021

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The mills of Beirut

November 29 – Today I felt the frost of death for the first time.  I saw love lying on the bed without a soul.  Love is ugly after death, like all corpses, and it smells.

An excerpt from a book I’m reading

It’s 10:43 pm, I’m lying on a bed and I can see the city skyline reflected from the balcony’s transparent door. It is so beautiful. The lights shimmering in every house, the noir streets in between, the aging city sleeping from above, the tiny people we cannot see, the stories untold, the mightiness of Beirut, the divine Mediterranean. It is so beautiful. 

A friend once told me that he sees city lights as “Earth stars.” They might be, captivating in their own way, dwelling in the mysteries of the Earth, untied by constellations. They’re prettier than the stars in the sky. 

They glow at me, taunting me to know the secrets, the gossips, and scandals of houses dying to tell. I can look at it, the skyline, forever, making up stories about the light owners, feeding my curiosity with appalling anecdotes and torrid letters to anonymous. 

I am dreaming, enchanted by the sparkles and the glimmers, making up devious scenarios whispered in nooks and crannies, praying for peace and warmth in every troubled soul and every aching heart. 

I’m listening to my favorite song, and I am really enjoying the book I am reading- and I am so proud that I am reading (❤️). Today was a quiet day, and tomorrow will probably be a serene one spent in nature, plus it’s Sunday which means I can sleep as much as I like, even though my brain will probably wake me up at 7 am. (:

It’s fine, I like early mornings and its delicious coffee. I’ll get to read before everybody wakes up and secretly scroll through my emails (the secret is kept from me by me (I am teaching myself not to open emails during the weekend and (I am cheating))). 

I also need to plan for camping next week; planning logistics and making reservations and writing my infamous-never ending-long to-do list, and setting budgets. Fun fun. 

If you’re looking at Beirut and its lights, let me know. We’re looking at the same beauty. 

Good night x 

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My blog turns one today🎂

Dear lovelies, the awesome readers of my blog,

My baby’s one today. Happy birthday, nourslittleuniverse; I am over my head with thoughts and impressions, and I am so proud of you.

Being the uptight structured moi, I am overflowed with so many things to write and so many bits and pieces to share, and whenever I feel like writing too much, I freeze, and I would get writer’s block because lol. The life of nonsense is me, and I am it.

As per the aforementioned – ;), I have categorized my thoughts into the following points, and I’m hoping I make some sense because when I’m excited, I lose words, and I just end up smiling like a creep, and since you can’t see me smile you’ll probably think I am a mess-which I am, but I wouldn’t want you to think that.

Embrace yourself; this will be a long post.

Anyway, the points are:

Songs you can listen to while reading this🎵
General overview: a- Typos b- Content✍️
Feedback📝
FAQ❓
Photos – cover photos🖼️
Today🎋
Plans & future🩰
Round of applause👏

Songs you can listen to while reading this🎵

I am currently listening to two songs:

Eid Miladek – A5rass: I discovered this song in March 2021. The song is so simple yet so alluring. The theme revolves around a girl he loves, who is currently in a relationship with another person, but he still wants to be part of her life; he makes her laugh when her partner upsets her, and he cries so many times while her hand is in the hands of another.

He tells her that he will hide her from everyone’s eyes, and he will protect her from them, and on her birthday, he will sing her all the songs that have been sung until this day, and he will still not do her just.

I cannot even?

Malibu – Miley Cyrus: I heard this song first during the summer of 2017, and every time I listen to it, I close my eyes, and I see myself sitting on a shore on the last days of summer, looking at a sunset and feeling a slight chill because autumn is near. This song reminds me of healing, reminds me that after summer, there is always winter, and winter is always happy.

Please note that I don’t have a music identity and that I listen to Miley Cyrus, System Of A Down, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, Abdulhalim, Alternative Arabic, all in one playlist. But we can discuss this later.

General overview: a- Typos b- Content✍️

Where to begin? When I first created this beautiful space, I was at B-Hive; Maysa was helping me with organizing my volunteers’ database, and I was supposed to reply to emails, but all I was doing was designing this blog from scratch. The template, font, color, photos, categories, tools, widgets, appearances, everything. It was too thrilling, and I was so intrigued to borne something so dear to my heart from empty white canvas.

It has been an incredible journey, and I think this blog is solely the best thing I ever did for myself. It is healing me in so many ways I cannot describe.

Looking back at the past year, I cannot but think of all the insanely magnificent people I have met, hugged, loved, cried for. The ones who left and the ones who stayed, the people that shaped me into what I am today, the ones who broke me and rebuilt me, they all are immortalized here, in every word and every photo, and I am in bliss.

On spelling and grammar mistakes – I would like to sincerely apologize for all the typos and grammar errors in my writings. I acknowledge most, and my camera roll is full of screenshots of typos that I find when I reread all posts, and I say I want to fix them, and I never do. I will someday, I promise.

Content – this marks not only one year of blogging but also my 100th post. Granted, I expected to write more in one year, but 100 posts mean one post every four days for a whole year and??? wow.

I know that the figures are inaccurate, that I have probably written five articles in one day, and that I have skipped July and August, but the range is good enough for me, and I am so happy I committed for a whole year. I did not expect that.

There are times where I thought that if I didn’t have anyone reading my blog-as per my analytics-I would be discouraged to write, but that was not the case. There were many times where I had zero visitors, and I still wrote because I enjoy writing, and even though I LOVE it when you read my posts, I am also happy to write for myself.

Feedback📝

The outstanding feedback you have given me the past year is too heart-wrenching to even speak of. I absolutely loved your feedback, and for those who read my blog in silence, please do talk to me, give me feedback, feed the confidence of the 12 years old nour that lives inside me and that dreams of people loving her and what she writes.

Your feedback not only encourages me to write but also keeps me alive. You have no idea how much it means to me that the one thing I absolutely love, the one thing I think I am good at, and the one thing that has accompanied me through all my life, is something you think I’m good at too. It’s like telling an insecure bird that it can fly. You encourage me to spread my wings, and I am so grateful.

Your words, I remain in awe.

FAQ❓

A question I frequently get is: who’s the person you keep writing love letters to? The answer to this answers the other frequent question: why do you not tell me what you write about?

Because if I could speak about what I write, I wouldn’t really write it. I created this blog to be able to share all the things I cannot talk about, so I can never really explain to you the context behind most of what I write about because I honestly cannot express it.

There’s always a face to my letters, there’s always a certain somebody that I am thinking of as I write, but it isn’t really one person. I have probably written to/about at least five persons, and if you’re smart enough, you’ll figure yourself out.

But forgive me, I can never tell you more than you are reading, so you’ll probably have to read through the lines.

This answers the following frequent question: why so depressive most of the time? Because I am not accustomed to sharing when I am sad, which is why I would only write them here. It’s not really about me being depressed; it’s really just that these are things I cannot express or talk about, yet I need to rid myself of them somewhere, and et voila, I have a blog for that.

Would you take negative feedback? I’m sorry, but no. If you have negative thoughts about my blog, please refrain from sharing them with me. The blog is too personal, it is me putting myself out there, with all my raw emotions and personal experiences, and you criticizing means you are criticizing my feelings, my personality, and I’m not confident enough to accept that.

Photos – cover photos🖼️

Out of the 100+ photos shared here, only 5 of them are not mine, but all photos reflect a very personal moment, a cherished minute, a loveful memory, a second that I wanted to immortalize. All photos have meaning and a story behind them; it usually takes me considerable time to choose a photo.

As for the cover photo, it was taken at Concierge coffee shop while I was with Ghassan during one of our infinite study/work dates. Before COVID-19, Ghassan and I met almost daily at coffee shops, mainly New Yorker, to work and study, and they were precious times. Thank you, Ghassan, I may have never thanked you for the lovely memories, and I hope if you ever read this that you know I am grateful.

Maybe I’ll change the cover photo? To mark one year of this baby alive and kicking, but perhaps I don’t because I’m boring and because I don’t like change. I’ll think about it 💭

Today🎋

Yesterday was one of those sweeter days where I had my moments of being a social butterfly, and I made new friends and held tight to old ones. I

finished work at 8:00pm, came back home, showered, and reflected on how much I enjoyed every moment of this Wednesday. It’s 1:15am right now, and I will probably finish this by 1:45am, and I will probably be able to fall asleep at 2-2:30am, and I need to wake up at 6:30am tomorrow because I need to be at the office at 8:00am to finish pending tasks from yesterday, and I will be finished work at 6:00pm because I have a meeting at 5:00pm, so that is ten hours of work, and I will be waking up dead because I need my 9 hours of beauty sleep and I won’t have that.

But, that’s alright, writing all this here is worth it, plus my friend is taking me out for Shawarma after work, so it is okay.

Plans & future🩰

I plan to continue writing, to bore you with the details of my pain and the thoroughness of my days. I plan to tell you everything, share my days with you, write poems and short stories, and everything. I plan to keep loving this blog as much as I do now, and maybe more.

There are some things that I really want to start with, like taking creative writing courses and enrolling myself in aerial yoga, but I am not good with resolutions and, given my crunched schedule, I will not give any promises.

Round of applause👏

I am forever humbled that you take moments of your day to read this. Honestly, no words amount to how grateful I am for you. For the readers and my friends and the strangers, I am forever thanking you for being the most beautiful souls.

Thank you for giving me a chance, for loving me in all the times I did not deserve love. Thank you for all the memories that I cannot fit in this very long post; thank you for yesterday and all the tomorrows.

Thank you for everything, thank you for this blog, thank you for a world so wonderful. Thank you, and good night.

🎤

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I am so very much in love

I am in love. I am in love with the wonderful world we live in; with the ebony night and the washed-out days and the godly mountains and the soft breeze brushing my cheek without consent. I am so in love with this feeling of idyll, of living in a world so ghastly, of the obsession we have to stay alive, to survive amid chaos.

I am currently in the middle of nowhere. I am in a well-known town, but this cottage is in the middle of nowhere, and a cat just ate my food and spilled my drink on the white lace cloth lying on the perfectly carved table, and my feet are cold, and I am feeling lightweight with a mild headache, and I am absolutely in love. 

It is so drastic to love something so ugly. To love a world that shelters starving children, orphans, poverty, to love the beauty in the very ugliness of the world.

It is selfish to be sitting here, on a holistic swing playing with my hair and planning to stay awake until sunrise, while death lingers by in every cracked window and every leaky roof.

Yet, I am okay; I am well. I am so grateful for the world we live in, for the beauty in the souls that pass by us, for the behemoth pain and euphoria that we must live through, for every moment that crossed us, for the way I feel drinking my coffee and laughing to the insanity of the whole universe we live in.

It is so inane, yet so relieving, to be able to see the world as it is, a real-life adaptation of Alice in Wonderland. And then there are these sweet and vile moments, moments that make heartaches go away, that feed our blood ecstasy, that make every single broken memory, totally worth living.

How lucky am I? To be able to have a Monday and a Tuesday off for a post-weekend getaway, contemplating ways to survive the rest of the year and thinking of the life I led, with pride and a lot, a lot, of shame.

I’m reading a novel written during Lebanon’s civil war by one of my favorite authors, and I felt an urge to share my happiness with you. I know I do not do that often-share my happy moments-and I am forever sorry for what you have to read here, but right now, you need to know that if I’m on drugs, I would probably not have felt this high.

What else?

I cannot wait until I watch my Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby movie tonight, after sunset, and before I find myself asleep on the couch. I will be of course binge-drinking coffee, but we both know I will be falling asleep by 12-ish.

Also

I have been obsessed with this song the whole summer, it is so enchanting and raw, and everybody should be listening to it. It reminds me of love, of quietness, of happiness. Give it a listen, will ya?

“if i knew what
safety looked like
i would have spent
less time falling into
arms that were not”

Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

I hope you’re having a lovely Monday-or at least trying to (:

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You were good to me

You were good to me; I promise you this. You came in a time of seriousness and added to the absurdity of everything else, and I am grateful. You came to me with greed and left with the only parts of the sun I like, which aren’t many.

I want to leave, not because you are bad for me or because you hurt me, but because I will hurt you. I do that, usually, and sometimes I am aware of all the hurt I am causing, but I don’t mind because it feeds my ego, and I like to have you always around, so I don’t lose any of the ego I barely have.

I want to leave you because the more I stay, the more I feed your love to my satisfaction. I will become addicted to your nice words and obsessive attention, and I will give you just a little to keep you hanging, and I will indulge in the lust of attention with nothing but apathy towards what you feel,

But you were so good; I give you this. There are very few people that have touched my heart, and you are one of them. I cared for you; I really did. I did not expect much, and I barely even noticed when you were around, until that time when you shined in a crowd, and you mainly chose to shine in front of me, and I saw you differently, and I hoped you were healthy, and you were.

But it’s time to leave now, and you know why. It’s getting too volatile, and we all know how I get when all the things are precarious. I run away, and you would hate me then, and I would never want you to see me less than how you see me right now.

You’re safe, and I like that, but I am afraid you’re going to become too safe for me. I am afraid of myself when I am around you; I am afraid of what happens after you become my only safety, so I’ll leave, as long as I still can, it’s better for me, it’s better for you, I promise.

But thank you, I will not forget what you did for me.

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I won’t let you die

I won’t let you die.

I will not allow it. I will keep you alive in the dimmest rooms, and I’ll cover you with sunshine on my way out. 

I will not keep you alive in memories, I will keep you alive in my current days, in my morning coffee and 5pm walk, I will keep you alive in songs that were never about you but now will be. I will keep you alive in things that remind me of you, in songs that look like you, songs that make me feel as happy as you made me feel. I refuse to let you fade away, I will grow you as a black mold on my walls and I will let you grow until I can no longer breathe, until your very existence suffocates me. I will keep you with me, I will keep you alive. 

You cannot die, not at this time and at this place, I will make sure to include you in my moments, in the superstitious smiles I sneak to the ones that hate me and the false hope I give to my lovers, I will make sure to bring you with me to my ugliest moments and I will make sure you will live then with me. 

I an no longer scared of you, no longer scared of how much you ruin me. I will keep you here, very close to me, and I will not let you escape.

I will keep you with me even if you do not want to be, even if you beg me to let you go, I will keep you alive because I am selfish and because this is where you were and this where you need to be. And  I’m selfish because I know that if you’re not here the places you will fly to are surreal, places even I cannot reach, and I can’t keep up, and you’ll fly very far away from me. And I will not be able to survive the drought.

I need you to stay here because you made me feel alive in a desolate town, you held my hands in a starless night and smiled at me as if it is all okay when we both know it wasn’t. I need you here, beside me, because it is so morbid without you and you know it.

You’re very toxic and I am over my head and I don’t care, the toxicity of the moments are very lucid and it helps me wake up in the morning, and I am fine. 

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I miss you

I miss you, and you aren’t exactly a person or even a place; I miss the feeling of wholesomeness that I felt around these certain people in this certain place at this certain time. I miss feeling alive on the deadliest days and in times where the county is falling to pieces and my community is starving for air; I miss the moments where I felt like I had it all.

I miss you for what I was when I was around you. I miss you for what you did to me without doing anything, for all the endless nights of singing our hearts out in the car, and for the mornings where you smiled at me, and it made me feel like the fire around me, it is worth living in.

Even the pain that lingered herein felt better than the delicious coffee I am drinking right now and the void I am feeling.

It was simple, candlelights and a lot to say, and the void that was slowly taking over was creeping away with the wolves of the full moon.

Right now, it’s content; it is okay. I am drinking cold coffee, which isn’t usually my scene, and I have been listening to System Of A Down more than usual, and I am reading books(!). I had wonderful conversations, and I ate tabbouleh today for lunch; and I’m learning new things at work and taking more responsibilities, and I am feeling dead.

“I wonder if I’ll always feel weak when I go to the places that we used to be”

Was it all in my head? It seemed like I was floating. I lost the adrenaline rush, the excitement to be alive. I’m not doing bad now, not at all, it just that I lost it, I lost the spark.

I was updating my calendar today and believe me, the past month I was running 28 hours a day, it was so loud and I think it’s only fair to feel this piercing silence right now. Here’s a look at July in comparison to August and September:

July:

August & September:

a dream

It’s fine; there are bigger problems in the world, whatever; I just wish my problem is big enough for this world, as much as my feelings are.

Exciting things ahead, we’ll talk more. <3

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You whiny baby

But nour, you’re a whiny baby. You love being alone. You keep referring to everything scary as dark, yet all you wear is black, your nails are mostly painted black, and you can’t wait to turn off all the lights in the room, and your favorite coffee is pure black.

Nour, you talk almighty about being around people, yet you choose to stay in on a Saturday night because you want to write about your pain, and you crave silence.

You just skipped a very social weekend to clean your closet and bookstore in peace. You’ve upset more than five people as you drink your pot of coffee and your eyes hurt because of all the crying and all you want is to sleep alone in your empty cold bed and wake up at 4:30am on a Sunday to walk for mental health awareness.

Nour, you speak of desolation, yet you only love walking alone and you hate when someone offers to walk with you.

You’re listening to a song with a chorus that says: “Patient, dreamer, I want to see a better day than mine. Dead, strong, outcast, I don’t live in my worries,” and you don’t even know what it means, but it seems sad, and you’re okay with just that.

You baffle me with your moodiness and over-excessive sentiment. You’re alone, you always have been, yet your heart hurts because your loved ones left, and you want them around you the way they have been. You preach the quiet, and you miss the loud.

How come you talk trash about pale, yet you’re so white? How come you’re laughing all the time yet you claim agony? It doesn’t seem right, nour, to be so in love with independence, yet all you want is for him to tell you he loves you.

You talk big about mental health, yet you’re your worst bully. You overload yourself with work, over-carry responsibilities that aren’t your own, shame yourself for not being perfect, talk loud when all you want is to whisper, ignore your loved ones when all you want is to listen to them. You hurt the ones you love the most, nour, and you complain when they keep distance.

And when it comes to people, you choose the easy way out. You don’t fight for anyone, no matter how much you love them, no matter how much it tortures you every second of every day, how much you want them to stay, you would never tell them, never say it out loud. You keep torturing yourself because being this self-maltreated is still easier than showing them you’re vulnerable.

Nour, you are your worst enemy. You love too much and act so little. You feel too much and show so little. You’re oversensitive, and you want them all to see you as the strongest. You’re happy to be called cheerful, and you’re that saddest person you know. Your loneliness is killing you, yet your time alone keeps you alive.

Maybe you need to start figuring yourself out before asking too much of people. Maybe fix yourself before asking people to love you, before expecting them to stay. Maybe then they will stop leaving you, nour, maybe then they will choose you, maybe then it will not hurt as much because you already know no one will leave you because you’re too broken for them to stay.

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I haven’t read a book for so long

I’ve probably started with a book (or five) the past year and did not finish any, and to be honest, the last book I fully read was in June 2020, and I am so ashamed. I can feel my language weakening and my words becoming less appealing, and I miss the feeling of wholesomeness when reading a beautiful book, but I haven’t, for over a year.

“Between pain and nothing, I’d chosen nothing.”

The past few months have been a rollercoaster, I honestly did not have time for anything, and I have not been alone for a second. Right now, as I said goodbye to my dear loved ones, and I sunk into my empty bed, with the cold AC breeze hurting my skin, I am alone.

I used to be a bookworm, I read all the time and anywhere. I would read a book, finish it in a few days, take a break for a week from all the emotions that linger after, then start with a new one. It was my life, to live in other writers’ worlds, feel feelings that aren’t mine, get consumed by the rush of events and excitement. Nowadays, I am too overwhelmed with my own messiness to live anybody else’s; I have ignored the one thing I loved: reading.

Right now, in my hole of loneliness, I am craving the books, I am craving to feel anything but my feelings. Right now, as I suffer from major separation anxiety (as expected) I cannot but remember my favorite book, the one book that describes loss at its best, the one author that describes loss so thorough that it’s too painful to read that I often found myself hugging the book and closing my eyes because the emotions are just too much to handle.

“Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second-hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.”

New Moon, Stephenie Meyer

You’re probably judging me by now, because you have seen the movie, or because it’s trendy to hate on Twilight, but I’m telling you, you did not read the book. You honestly do not know written pain if you have not read New Moon. I was 14 when I first read Twilight, and I specifically read New Moon more than 20 times, reading and rereading the pain of Stephenie that remains as anguishing as the first time, she describes what it feels to lose:

“It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole had been punched through my chest, excising my most vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around the edges that continued to throb and bleed despite the passage of time. Rationally, I knew my lungs must still be intact, yet I gasped for air and my head spun like my efforts yielded me nothing. My heart must have been beating, too, but I couldn’t hear the sound of my pulse in my ears; my hands felt blue with cold. I curled inward, hugging my ribs to hold myself together. I scrambled for my numbness, my denial, but it evaded me.”

New Moon, page 105

This. Exactly this. This is what I feel whenever I lose my close ones; the hole in my chest is surreal that sometimes I feel like if somebody opened me up they will literally find a real hole twisting within my ribs. It’s fear adding to anxiety, I cannot lose people and move on. I avoid music I used to listen to when I was with them, I avoid our common places, certain streets, mutual friends, photos and videos, anything that reminds me of the someone that does not exist in my life anymore. I even avoid them if they tried to reach out, their memory is more powerful than them itself and I protect myself from it all.

And I feel pain inside my guts. I feel the monsters waiting for me to sleep only to wake me up in my most moment of comfort to remind me of what I have lost, to remind me that even though I will find happiness again someday, I will always lose the people I love most.

“I worried- late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down my defenses- that it was all slipping away. That my mind was sieve, and I would someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his cool skin, or the texture of his voice. I could not think of them, but I must remember them.

Because there was one thing that I had to believe to be able to live- I had to know that he existed. That was all. Everything else I could endure. So long as he existed.”

I will go back to reading again, I promise. Hey you, be a dear and recommend me nice romantic novels that also tackle mental health-preferably depression and loss-that is so compelling I would sniff the pages when finished. Yes, this is the genre I chose, no judgements please.

(I hope you never lose a loved one.)
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I wish people can stop hurting us

I wish it gets easier over time, losing people. I wish the pain in our chest and the fear of emptiness fade away the more people leave; I wish we could shut off the feeling of getting close, of getting attached to something we know is so mortal, yet feels so good.

Maybe if we keep distance, despite the melancholy of loneliness, maybe then it doesn’t have to hurt so bad. Maybe if people stop hurling around our lives, breaking the walls we built in between, knocking down our defenses, maybe then it doesn’t hurt so bad to watch them walk away.

It happens, it always does, but this time it is not fair. I’ve loved, and I’ve lost, but it’s been so long since I’ve let someone in, and I just realized that. I had people that I have loved a lot, and when they left, I felt nothing, and I thought I was just too occupied or too busy to feel the loss, but that turned out not to be true.

Now, it feels different, my heart is aching, and I cannot eat, and I have tears in my eyes, but I cannot cry because I have people around me, and I would hate for them to know.

I haven’t really had the best week, and I have been emotional since Monday, even crying in public. Right now, it feels as if there is no safety anymore, as if I’ve lost not one, not two, but five of whom should have always been here. They should have stayed.

It doesn’t seem right, and I know it won’t feel like this forever. I know it will get better; next week and the week after, I will numb the pain of the abyss in my chess by avoiding places and music and the thought of you. The next month, it will get better, I will be colder, and the bleak will become part of me. The month after, it will be okay, and I will search for new reasons to live. It passes; everything does.

Even if we don’t want it to.

I’m accustomed to the pattern, I know how it goes, and I’m very aware of the process, but the pain of loss in the very beginning is still as severe as ever, as burning as a fresh and open wound. I wish this in particular; I wish we could sleep it away; I can’t with the pain.

As always, in times of sadness, I find myself yearning for my 16-years-old-nour-playlists. Here’s what I’m currently listening to while writing:

Also, apologies, I know this blog always has its way to get depressing, even if I don’t want it to. I’m not a sad person, I promise you, and it’s not that I live in denial, but even medically, I’m not diagnosed with depression or any of the sort, I just happen to like writing about suppressed feelings, things I cannot talk about to others, and they happen to be close to sad, so apologies.

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I can hear crickets chirp chirping in here

Chirp chirp chirp.

Well, hi? It’s been more than two months *gulp*, and I have no justification. I’ve relapsed a bit the past two months and had a lot of serene moments and incredible getaways, and I found love like I have never found before, and I unconsciously chose to stop writing in here, and I don’t know how to come back.

I say that I have been over my head with work, and my personal life was too loud to silence it here, and it has just been so “aaahh” with everything, but I know if I wanted to, I would have.

I’m not proud of this, believe me. In 23 days, this baby will turn one year, and I haven’t reached 100 posts yet, and I have 14 unfinished posts saved as drafts, so that’s quite disappointing. Nour, I am disappointed.

It’s just, the idea that I have 14 unfinished posts is a burden because that means unfinished work, and I. can’t. with. unfinished. work. Unfinished work sounds like a lack of responsibility, and it puts more pressure on me.

When will I stop fighting with myself over things like this? I set high expectations for myself, unrealistic responsibilities, self-pressure myself to do the most absurd tasks, and then dramatically break down in puddles of tears and self-loathe when I don’t meet any of them. Fun, ain’t it?

Well, if anything, I am doing well. I am healthy again, I have lost the extra weight ;), I’m eating well and walking more, Diane has been here for a month and a half, and it’s been quite busy in the lands of not-knowing-what-I-am-not-knowing-what-to-do. I am taking leaves, more than I feel I need, and I have been prioritizing myself to an extinct where people are fighting me for “not caring enough.”

I’m dealing with new stressors and new problems that I still do not know how to fathom or deal with without pulling somebody’s eye out, crying for five days straight, or shopping until my bank account drops. And I must add, I have been eating delicious food the past week, so so good.

I plan on reaching 100 posts before nourslittleuniverse’s birthday, so bear with me with *gulps loudly* spam of nonsense, I hope. I have A LOT to share with you, but not sure how or where to start.

Let’s meet again tomorrow, shall we?