Day: November 6, 2022

I’m listening to a song right now that I have listened to for the past six years. I’ve always felt it, one way or another, but tonight, I felt as though it literally just happened. Would you like to hear the story of the song? I will tell it anyway.

“I came to you in the morning. I ironed your shirts, and I made you breakfast. I played you the ukelele till you slept. I sang to you.

I put you on my shoulders, and I brushed your hair because you told me to do so. I then brushed my hair, and now my hair smells like yours. Then I took you home and waited until you turned your bedroom lights on, and then I left.

This is not a normal feeling I am used to. It’s getting fast and more serious, and I never asked for it. I never asked for your smell to be stuck in my head hours after you leave, hours after I stop smelling anything at all.

You need to make this better for me and you. Could you possibly disappear, go away? Even though it is not your fault but I’m scared to get used to you. I hear you like my voice and that we may become closer friends, but my friends would push my car down the road even if it’s a 2 passed million after midnight. Do you want to do this?

It’s getting louder. I can see you in a crowd, I can hear your voice very clearly. I should’ve turned my back on you when I met you; I should’ve not done this, I didn’t know I would love you.

I’m scared of commitment.

I’m scared of commitment.

I’m scared of commitment.

I’m scared of commitment.”

This is a bit of what I understood of the song. A bit of what I am listening to right now.

Be still my aching heart as the weekend is over. My heart is very heavy. My muscles are tired, and I can feel the fog blinding my eyesight. It’s a haze, it’s pain, it’s agony, it’s the bleak that we fear. It is unholy to feel this pain, it is not fair.

Yet we feel it. And this feeling is not that common. We do not feel our heart often, we often do not feel it hurting us unless we actually have a cardiac disease maybe, like when you can feel your hurt stopping to the tip of your finger. Or when you are heartbroken.

Have you ever felt this feeling before? To have your heart hurt so much that you clench your chest because you know that there is nothing that you can do at that moment, at that very second, that will make the pain go away.

That no matter how much you scream, or how much every tiny cell in your body cries for help, no matter how much you sweat, how much you cry, how much you feel like you are being stabbed with a sharp and poisonous knife to your chest thirty times a second, you know that it will not go away.

That feeling, that feeling, that feeling you may feel when you go out of your house wearing shorts, unaware that it will rain, that it’s piercing cold. And you’re cold, and there is nothing that you can possibly do to feel warm. You just got out of the warm house, what you once called home, and you know that you are not welcomed back again.

That feeling when, you’re sitting on a hill watching the sunset, a time that you usually feel most at peace with, but you’re not happy, you; ‘re scared. Because you’ve been thrown out, you’re exposed, you’re no longer in safety, you’re out, cold, naked, ugly, and in pain.

Do you know what I’m talking about? Or all of this is just blabbering, the two cents of the dramatic girl that is me? Can you possibly imagine for one second that all of those are actually emotions felt?

Felt for someone that is so deserving, someone that takes my breath away with a smile, a lip bite, an eyebrow plucker. Someone that meant the world to me, yet slipped right through my hand, because I could not protect from my own self.

I will write about him. I will give him justice. Just not today, not when I’m this beaten down and fatigued. When I have the strength to describe him.

When I am brave enough to let you know. To let you know.

I hate flying a lot. I love seeing the world, but airplanes and airports? Oh God, they are a nightmare. I mean, I would prefer long layovers over long hours on an airplane, but still, the whole flying thing is so not my thing.

Airplanes make me feel so claustrophobic, and dizzy and sick and just so boring. I am so thankful that I only have one and a half hours on my next flight to Beirut, but right now I am at Sabiha airport in Istanbul, three hours in on my layover, and three hours to go until I fly. And I am just so bored.

I mean, granted, I could have booked a business lounge and sat on much more comfortable chairs, but I would have been so anxious that I might miss my flight that I would have probably left the lounge like three hours earlier, which basically would’ve brought me to where I am right now, on a crusty chair near some gate – as I still don’t know which gate my airplane will be in – with my butt hurting as I stretch my legs over my handbag.

I am not in my best mood, even though I am well fed(:, and I am sleepy, and I just want this three and half hours over sooner.

The only thing that is really getting me through this is watching Sex Education. I started watching it on my flight to Tbilisi, and right now I am on the last two episodes, which I find perfect because then I will not have to continue watching it at home and it will always be part of this mystical trip.

A lot of my colleagues recommended Sex Education. When I first started watching it, I was like wtf. This is a series about horny teens’ obsession with sex and unfortunate bullied victims who really do not have a chance. But as I made my way through the series, I realized that it is more than that, and I understood what my colleagues meant by homey.

It is a wonderful series that break the taboos about sex and address the topic as it is, unfiltered: humans are sexual beings and there is nothing wrong with pleasure, desires, and identities.

It teaches the audience that diversity is not only important but should be celebrated. That we should all be entitled to explore ourselves and our bodies and live through experiences to grow and learn. Our bodies, who we are identified as, and who we choose to love, are never wrong.

I still have two episodes left, and even though I consider myself progressive and a know-it-all, I learned a lot watching the series, about my body, and other people’s sexualities and identities.

I think the one thing I knew before, but the series has engraved it more in my mind, is that no one, no one, should feel the pressure to explain why they are the way they are. People are different, and it is absolutely beautiful.

No matter the color, ethnicity, gender identity, sexual orientation, religion, belief, creativity, etc. it is to be praised and encouraged. Plus, I really wish Maeve and Otis end up together.

But I won’t spoil it for you.

I’m going back to watching the last two episodes, in hopes it get me through most of this painful waiting. The two episodes are two hours, so it will be 10:30pm by the time I finish them, which is only 20 mins away from boarding. So it should be fine.

The other option I have, except for reading (which I do not feel like I have the concentration cells to do), is to work on what is called a Daily Saving Allowance (DSA) package for work; each package needs to have 12 documents, and each document needs to be reviewed. And nope, no, sir. I know that I have been on leave for a week, but it’s still a Sunday night, and my leave ends on Tuesday. The last time I tried working on these packages was on my last layover and even though I spent two hours trying to sort the documents out, it felt like an endless maze.

Nope, thank you.

Back to Sex Education for now. I hope it’s a good ending, and I hope there is a fourth season soon.