Month: January 2022

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When writing fails, I need to shut down

I may have started writing more than five times for the past two days, writing one sentence and choking up with tears, and closing the laptop. I tried to write in Arabic, to feel closer to you, even tolerated the idea of expressing my feelings in spoken Arabic, and I wrote incomplete sentences that I now cannot even read.

How are you? You seem distant, more than the miles between us; I just can’t feel you beside me anymore, the closeness you have always accustomed me to, even when you were not beside me, you were always here. You are not anymore; you don’t really want to. And I am trying so hard to understand.

You haven’t asked how I am doing, but I will tell you anyways.

Everything hurts. Every bone in me is aching. My heart, the most. My heart is clenching with every thought of you, and the worst part is that all I can think of is you. The shortness of breath, the walls closing down, the unbearable chest pain, they are all here. I even searched to make sure I am not hallucinating, why the heart out of all organs hurts when we are emotionally hurt, and if it actually does, and it does. The heart actually hurts when we are heartbroken.

Everything in me is hurting, and everything around me is hurting me. How can it not, when everything reminds me of you? I sit on my couch in my living room, and I am reminded of three weeks ago when you were seated exactly here and told our friend smiling: “since we are at her house, let us officially ask her father for her hand.” As a feminist in the making, I do not usually appreciate these jokes, but I hated my ugly heart for almost skipping a beat.

I listen to this song my best friend gave me, and I am reminded of your friend’s house as I sat on a hammock and listened to you tell me you were thinking of making a band with your guitarist friend.

Nights remind me of you because of all the sleepless nights we spent talking, laughing them away, me taking you for granted. Snoring reminds me of all the voice messages you sent me of your friend. “We should start an orchestra,” you joked. Pasta reminds me of you because it is probably the only food you know how to make. Music reminds me of you, of your voice singing, of you playing your musical instruments and closing your eyes as if you are actually feeling every word you sing. Coffee reminds me of you because if there is anything I am certain of, I, as well as anything in the world, could never compete with how much you love your black coffee. Sleep reminds me of you, you who sleeps at dawn and wakes up three days later, still feeling sleepy.

Insecurity reminds me of you, for all the arguments we had because you doubted how I felt towards you. Jealousy reminds me of you, for all the guys I told you about, and you would either stop replying to me or stay quiet and light a cigarette. Pretty girls remind me of you because of how frustrated I feel from the idea of you meeting any of them. Sweaters remind me of you because of how wholesome and warm yours look on you. My car reminds me of you because all I could hear is your voice singing along to the songs on the car radio. My friends remind me of you because you are a part of all of them, even the ones you don’t know, know of you.

Everything is, one way or another, reminding me of you, I have known you for three years, and you have been the most significant part of my life for over a year, despite me pushing otherwise most of that time. I have been reading back our chats the past two days, hoping to keep you alive in me as long as I can, and I cannot begin to explain how stupid and reckless I have been when all you have been so loving and sincere. I avoided you for days, replied hours after you’ve poured your heart out to me, ignored your sweet talk, refused to slow dance with you. I forgot so many important things you told me. I rejected you, not once, but twice.

I am sorry. I am so so so sorry. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything since summer; I wanted to explain myself and be as honest as I could ever be; I wanted to tell you all what I had left to say despite our friends fighting me not to. I wanted to be brave enough for you, but you refused to listen. I begged you to let me talk, but you were too blinded by your own perceptions that you would not allow me to say anything. And just like that, my very thin bravery was gone to the wind.

The most painful thing is that nine months have passed since you mustered the courage to tell me you were in love with me, nine long months that could easily make you fall out of love, and this is what kills me the most. That I am stuck here on a memory of you while you most probably outgrew me a long time ago.

I could feel it; I could feel how unimportant I am to you right now. I am no longer part of your routine, of your good morning texts, of your nightly talks, of your here-and-now thoughts. I pushed you away when all I wanted of you was to stay here, and now you are out there thinking of so many people that I am probably none of, and I am sitting here in my misery thinking of you.

I need to tell you everything. I need to; I need to. I am just not sure what will be most painful, though, to pour my heart out for you only for you to confirm my theory that you have long moved on, or to keep everything in me and live off theories and nonrealistic scenarios that only exist in my heart. I have never been rejected before, and I am not sure I can survive it now, but I would certainly prefer closure to uncertainty.

I know one thing, you gave me purpose.

This may be the last thing I will write for so long, whether to you or anybody, and it is ironic because my writings for you are literally the only posts that everybody knows who I am talking about, except you. Maybe one day, you will read these and understand on your own. Maybe soon enough, you will be mortified of the world I have built for us here that you never knew existed.

At this point, I just wish I could die. I do want to move on; I do not want to overcome all the wonderfulness you have given me; I do not want to imagine a tomorrow without you. I want to be stuck here, with all this and watch my life come to an end. The hardest part about you being gone is not that I do not get to see you or talk to you; it is that I do not get to feel you again.

And you gave me purpose.

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My mum cradled me to sleep yesterday

It was 9:00 pm, and I couldn’t breathe from all my crying, and my mum hugged me tight and cradled me to sleep. I had a panic attack, and I wanted to stop crying; I did (I do), but every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was you, heard your voice, smelled you, and as much as I tried to get you out of my head, you kept maliciously growing, like cancer.

I had a fever all night, and all my hallucinations were about you. My current fever is 38 celsius, and it hurts even to cry, but if only I could control the way I feel, I would have taught myself how to forget your name.

Every time I remember that I will never hear you sing along a song in my car, make you coffee, make fun of the way I talk, wake you up in the morning, stay up all night while you tell me about the most inane things, things that are only interesting when you tell them.

Every time I think of the fact that, out of all people, you left, taking away all my safety and all the security hung by a threat, I die a million times inside.

You promised you would always be here for me; you promised you promised. Is this your definition of being here for me? You were my definition of warmth, and I cannot believe I was this lucky to have you. Do you know those illustrations, where a girl is all covered with black and noise, and then someone holds her hand, and not only the noise and black disappear, the world is recolored with brighter light. You were that to me, and now you are gone, and I don’t know how to go on without you.

I’ll miss you forever. Your memories are unending, but I probably have four memories of you that struck the most, that make me want to pull the pain out of my hair. I will write them, with all the details burning inside my mind, so I keep you alive everywhere, so you keep feeding off from my happiness. I will write them down, so every time my mind even thinks of forgetting that way you felt, it is struck with the fact that all I am now is because of you.

Come back.

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I just drove you to the airport.

I took the wrong road to the airport and we ended up driving a little to the South, and I kept apologizing because even though you leaving is killing me inside, I would never do anything to hurt you. We drove in circles for a while, but eventually I did drive you on time. 

I was trying to speed as much as I can, because this is what I do, I try to stupidly outrun my pain by speeding, but my leg was shaking the whole time. It was shaking so hard, I couldn’t control my brakes, but I managed to hide it from you. You were playing your hilariously weird songs and singing along them and the sun was in your eyes and you were way too beautiful and I was way too enchanted to let you know my leg was shaking so hard and my heart might stop at any moment. 

I am sitting right now on a stairs at the airport, sobbing with the ugliest face ever, hiding behind my face mask, my friends are trying to make me laugh, but every bone in me is crying that this was the last moment I saw you.

I said goodbye to you. I never thought I could ever say goodbye to you. It was short but sweet, an undeserving goodbye, a goodbye I did not expect and did not know how to handle.

How could I say goodbye to you? It is unreal, I refused to believe it. I kept on holding to the slight hope that this is all a lie, that you are not leaving, that this is just an awful nightmare and I will wake up to a world where you are still beside me.

I said goodbye to you, as Cate Le Bon sings in my head: 

He’s leaving

He’s leaving 

Town

And I do feel like dying

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It’s 1:30am. I need to wake up at 5:00am

It’s 1:30am. You texted me at 5:30am today and told me to wake you up at 9:00am if I were awake. 

I woke up at 7:30am, my body aching and the thought of you burned my brain to the core. I made coffee, put on lipstick and, still wearing my pajama, I wore my raincoat and drove to your place.

You woke up the very moment you saw me, which was a first -you’re usually the worst to wake up. I would put on the most annoying song on blast, sing vivaciously, sit on you, shake you and pull your hair out, and you wouldn’t wake up. You eventually do, wake up, look up at the sky and say to God: “what have I ever done to deserve this?”

Today, you woke up right away, and I left you my coffee to drink, and we looked outside the window and we saw a plane flying and you said, in your usual boyish attitude: “look! That’s my plane tomorrow.”

The worst part of all this is that you are happy. You are happy to leave, as you should, but it’s so hard to be happy for you when you’re taking away all I could ever possibly offer. How could I be happy for you when I’m this selfish? You’re asking me to be happy for you when all I really want is to have your arms around me and have the time freeze then and stay stuck in that moment for all eternity. And you expect me to tolerate the idea of you leaving?

A week ago we were also looking at the sky; the sun was setting and the clouds were all pink and fluffy, you looked at the sky and then at me and said: “where will I ever find someone like you?” And I told you with my most serious tone: “don’t even think of searching.“

Here were are, hours away from you leaving. I couldn’t see you tonight, I was with my sisters and you were out drinking with her, behemoth wicked witch of the west. It’s 1:25am, I am seeing you in 5 hours, and I need to sleep, but I know waking up is going to be so painful.

I’m dreading the morning. I’m dreading the 9am that will take you away from me.

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You, everyone will know who this is about

I just drove you home. You were singing along with the songs I have played – I thought of you while picking the songs, I thought of the way your voice will fit perfectly with every melody, I thought of how every word will remind me of you, of all the untold stories I could never say. 

I listened to you hum, and my heart broke to pieces because with every hum, I couldn’t but think to myself: “this is the last night you’ll ever spend with him.”

Your voice is still stuck in my head, like a lullaby, singing. You weren’t singing to me, but I want to believe you were, I want to believe all those nice words were meant for me, it’s been a while since you told me you loved me, and I am longing for a talk you promised me with, and we only have tomorrow left, but you are seeing her tomorrow night, and not me.

It’s 10:00pm. I stop at a red light, and you stop singing and look at me. You look me with those boyish puppy eyes and tell me that you really want coffee but you don’t have any money, and I tell you I will get you the world if you ask me to. We stop at a coffee place on the street and you get plain coffee and I get Nescafe, and I drive you home.

We reach another red light, and you tell me that this is the first time you drink coffee with sugar, and it tastes disgusting. I smile and tell you my Nescafé does not taste good either. I drive you home; I only say goodbye to you in a rush because it’s already 10:25pm and my curfew is 10:30pm. 

I am writing all this, as I try to keep every memory of you alive, as I cry because tomorrow will be the last day I get to be near you. I listen to our song as I remember last January, when you said you wanted to dance with me to this song and I shyly refused. I didn’t like you back then, you were just a friend. Little did I know that I will be lying here, cold and distraught, thinking of all the times I could have spent with you, holding me, as we danced to nothing at all, as I smell your perfume mixed with your warm aroma and you-smell that no one has but you. How can I survive without smelling you? How can I survive this? 

Teach me how to survive a world without you. Teach me how to listen to songs and not have them remind me of you. Teach me how to be brave and honest, and tell you that this is about you, that I could/will never love anyone the way I love you. Teach me how to imagine a world where you are not here.

It’s past midnight. Last night you texted me at exactly the same time and asked me if I was still awake. I was getting ready to sleep, but I felt like you wanted to tell me something. I didn’t give you much chance, I wanted to sleep so I could wake up the other day and see you. 

It’s 12:13am, and I have an urge to wake up early tomorrow and see you. I want to wake you up, in the annoying way I usually wake you up with. But this time, I want to let myself hug you until I fall asleep, absorbing all the warmth I could take from you. I want to feel you for the last time. 

I need you