Author: Nour Abdul Reda

BA in Journalism, MA in Communication Sciences. Writer, dreamer, peacemaker.
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It’s one of those nights

It’s one of those nights, I guess, where I’m too tired, and I can’t seem to find any happiness in the world.

It’s okay; I was bound to have a relapse; I expected it. It’s not major anxiety, just small levels of that, so that’s great, and I’m so grateful, but it’s just major sadness over everything, really, over everything.

It’s one of those nights where Between The Bars is on repeat, and for those who don’t know, this is my major depression song. I first heard in Skins (remember Skins? When Effy Stonem was religion and Freddie dying was the saddest thing you experienced?) at 14. I can’t remember the scene where this song started playing, but I remember thinking of how facile and beautiful it is, and I remember that it made me sad, and it still does, and it’s on repeat tonight.

Let us live in the moment; I keep telling myself. Let us be here, now, just right here. Let me sit at the top of a hill and watch the sun sets over the city and then admire the skyline and attempt to take a photo of it. Let me be with you now and not think of how I’ll lose you tomorrow.

But I’m finding it hard to live my moments because here I am, the day after, and it’s all gone, and you’re going, and I’m back to listening to Between The Bars with a very sad heart and with me crying next to a Christmas tree.

Here I am, binge eating a big bag of chips, drinking my tea, heater turned on keeping my always freezing feet warm, with lights turned off, and warm lights coming from the Christmas tree lights, and Elliot Smith singing to my ears, telling me that there is no reason to feel happy.

There is an Unica chocolate bar sitting beside me, taunting me to eat it, as if the 8 Unicas I ate today were not enough, as if the disgusting big bag of chips in my hand is not enough to make me feel like the ugliest person on earth.

I couldn’t even take a shower. I was just about to get into a hot shower, hoping to wash away all the agony of the world, and as I was opening the faucets, no hot water came down. It turns out that the hot water faucet broke that moment, and I couldn’t shower.

Honestly, what’s the point of it all? Of feeling happy and then feeling miserable for a longer time? What’s the point of living if it’s a vicious cycle of infinite dilemma and anguish and many nights of big bags of chips and a repulsed stomach? What’s the point of living, if it’s only to feel pain?

I wish God listens to me when I tell him that I need to die, but he doesn’t, and I’m still stuck here trying to figure a way to survive all of this melancholy without having to sit beside a Christmas tree and listen to Elliot Smith.

Yesterday was really good; I had a smooth day at work, and I had friends come over for a movie night, which made my heart very happy. I don’t know what happened today; I don’t know why everything I ever felt the past 3 weeks is almost gone.

Tomorrow I’m on a field mission with work, and I should be very nervous about it, but I’m too sad to think about it, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

I’ll also be seeing my friends at night, from university, whom I love, so it should be okay too. It should be okay? I should be okay.

I’m just really tired, and I didn’t have any caffeine all day, except for the tea right now, and I think I have a runny nose. Is it symptoms of COVID-19? I keep getting these now and then and getting paranoid over the virus. I’m not even sure if it’s really symptoms or it’s all in my head. I guess I’ll have to wake up tomorrow and see.

Drink up baby, look at the stars
I’ll kiss you again, between the bars
Where I’m seeing you there with your hands in the air
Waiting to finally be caught
Drink up one more time, and I’ll make you mine
Keep you apart, deep in my heart
Separate from the rest, where I like you the best
And keep the things you forgot
People you’ve been before
That you don’t want around anymore
That push and shove and won’t bend to your will
I’ll keep them still

Between the Bars – Elliot Smith

I hope you’re having a happier Wednesday.

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I am so much like you in ways you can’t understand

It’s weird how much you affect me.

I saw you today, and I realized that you affect me a lot. I talk a lot like you, I act a lot like you, and I am beginning to feel the way I think you do. It’s odd, right? To start feeling the same way somebody else feels about things. I know identification; I just never thought it could go this far.

Your influence on me is so bizarre because ever since I met you, we both were so bizarre, and I don’t know how we lasted or why I still count days to see you or why I still use your words, but you influence me a lot.

It’s still there, the feeling I get when you’re in a room, like a camera focusing on one body and blurring everything else in the room; that’s how I feel whenever you are around me. I lose my sense of listening or seeing anyone but you. It’s like when you appear; everything stops existing; it’s only you.

I love the way you talk or act; I do, it’s not like other people, and it’s unique. I find myself studying your every move because I know it will be different, and I know it will be unpredictable. I find myself in an enigma of trying to understand you yet personally preferring you stay this way, someone that I can’t predict what their next move would be.

Today wasn’t my favorite time seeing you; it was normal, and even below normal. I didn’t see you much anyway, but I noticed the way you looked at me that one time as if I’m special, as if there was no one but me. I saw your eyes smiling, and I loved that a lot.

I love it when you talk to me, and I can’t help but remember if I felt this way the very first time I saw you, and maybe thought to myself; “hey, he talks so special, let me study his every move,” or if this interest struck me after, after all that happened.

Why am I like this? Anticipating everything and still getting so happy to see you. I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t understand you, and it’s painfully mind-blowing. Can you help me understand the way you feel towards me? Can I, please, know what you want of me? And can you, for the love of gods and everything almighty, talk to me more?

I saw you today, and it made me think a lot, of you, of me, of us. I thought of you because you ever are so charming, and I thought of me because you affect me so much; it’s study-worthy, and I thought of us because, damn, what are we?

Can we please go back?

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A proud skylark

I wrote this inspired by one of my favorite poems (ask me about it, if interested):

You are trembling my dear but this is not what I meant
When I told you what they said to me and how it felt
That time I saw you late at night so heaven sent
They said you’re a beast, a creature so hell-bent

It drove me away, the way they described your lazy eyes
They told me you lurk whiskey and you smell like ugly lies
You laugh with yellow teeth and an ego I despise
Your shirts are thrifted and your shoes are incise

They said you’re no good but I needn’t be wary
As you don’t come close, you distance, very
Then why do you sit next to me, it’s scary
Why did you come close in this huge lonely ferry

You’re trembling my dear, as I tell you what they spoke
Do I hand you a cigarette? Do you crave a last smoke?
I won’t hide my hate for you and I don’t mean to provoke
But how can you be so beastly? I hope you choke

Love of my life, you hurt me
I’ve been trying to get away, to be free
It is true what they spoke, but I couldn’t see
That you are a sin and all this, it mustn’t be

I hope you die because I can’t rid of you any other way
I know you’re a predator and I was a passing prey
But I still prefer you than a world with you away
I still choose you over me any gloomy day

You are trembling my dear for you stand defeated
You told me you are toxic, and very much conceited
But you didn’t tell me about your victims and how they were treated
You told me you are no good but then my intuition you greeted

I know you are soulless because of what she did
You gave your all and she left you amid
She took your favorite sweater and away she slid
And ever since then you cut out hearts to feel vivid

She wore her red lipstick and gave you a smile
As if you’re socks that got out of style
She kissed you goodbye and you lingered for a while
In trauma, you wondered: how can I survive?

You look at your victim’s eyes and all you see is hers
You cry as there is much melancholy your heart bears
And then another girl smiles at you, a wink she even dares
And you think: let me fill my lustful void with theirs

So you kill to get over her and you chose me to kill
But I know what you are, so ugly and so ill
So I think of killing my own self, to jump a hill
I won’t let you get to me, your revenge to fulfill

You are trembling my dear for you will get your desire
I stand at the top of the bridge and I look at you with ire
I loved you a lot, I still do it’s dire
But I won’t let you kill me, I’ll be my own misfire

You are trembling my dear for you realize what you have done
She threw you to the wolves, left you undone
And you wanted to do the same with me, kill and run
So I chose to jump off the bridge on my own, I will be gone

You were beautiful my dear, an angel in the dark
Wears cheap perfume, it stains and leaves a mark
I won’t be very far away, I’ll be a skylark
So every time you see a skylark you say:
Here lies the girl that loves me, and there flies the proud skylark

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I finished my coffee challenge and I’m happy about it

Hello.

This is me getting back on my coffee challenge for this week. I finished it, and I loved it because 1) it helped me finish tasks I should’ve finished weeks ago in the areas where the coffee shops are, and 2) I got to drink coffee.

I’ll be breaking down the list of coffees I tried this week; the story behind the coffee shop, and the coffee itself, but before all of that, I have a few disclaimers to start with:

Disclaimer #1 my knowledge of coffee is zero. I love drinking diverse coffee, but I have no academic background in anything coffee-related, and I don’t find myself appreciating high-end coffee; I only know that Ethiopean black coffee is an amazing energy boost because my waiter friend at my old favorite coffeeshop (now closed) would tell me; “looks like you’re staying here for a while, let me get you an Ethiopian black coffee to stay awake.”

I’m just a very coffee drinker enthusiast, and I love trying all kinds of coffee. Thereby, my feedback is purely based on illiteracy and my love for coffee shops and the aforementioned.

Disclaimer #2 I’m not sure yet, but I might have missed the blissful sparkle I was feeling last week, but I’m not sure yet. I know that having Black and Breaking The Habit on repeat isn’t a good sign, but I’ll try to keep this as cheerful or neutral from whatever I’m feeling as possible.

Day 1; Starbucks

First things first, no, I don’t love Starbucks for its glamour; I genuinely love their coffee, I genuinely find it so good. My favorite is Caramel Macchiato, and it’s absolutely addictive, much to my pocket’s despair.

Any notable story: Just one. It was back in June of this year, and it was during my 4 days anxiety blackouts. I left home at 6 pm on terrible terms, and I had work outside of Beirut, and I could not stop crying all the way. When I finished, it was already 9pm, and I knew I could not go back home.

I waited 30mins until I found a car, with 3 men inside, that agreed to get me to a place close to Beirut. They let me ride with them until I found a bus, which took me to a place close to a Starbucks. Not having anything to eat since morning, I got myself a Caramel Macchiato and walked another 30mins to my best friend’s old abandoned house that I had the keys to (I spent the night there, but that’s a story for another time). I felt like death, and the only warmness was my coffee, so thank you, @starbucks (sponsor me, will ya?).

Day 2; Concierge

Concierge is a cute little coffee shop in Badaro, with a very cozy interior and perfect quietness for studying/working remotely. I had Caramel Macchiato, which tasted good, but not how I remember it used to taste like.

Any notable story: Concierge was the last place I went out to before the March COVID-19 lockdown. I had happy moments there, but they need to brew their coffee the way they used to.

Day 3; Backburner

The reason why I chose Backburner is to try a new coffee shop that has been on my list for a while. I tried their Spanish Latte; it’s good; the coffee is a bit intense but in a pleasant way, but it was way too sweet, which I later discovered is one of the specialties for Spanish Latte.

Any notable story: Not much, but I met our head of office’s husband there, so that was a bit awkward. I also tried out their chocolate chip cookie, which was INSANELY expensive, and I regretted not asking for its price before I bought it.

The size of my overly expensive cookie. Look at the size.

Day 4; B Hive

B Hive might be the busiest coffee shop in all of Beirut, maybe as crowded as Sip. I love their B Hive Latte, and I love their friendly waiters, who I for sure find more common topics with than the husband of my head of office.

Any notable story: old B Hive, the one in a building with a small nice garden and a snug upstairs studying area, was my to-go studying coffeeshop at university because it was quiet and because my friend liked it. I don’t get how people still can study and work in it now with all the crowding and buzz.

Day 5; a coffee from a street espresso

We all know this only tastes good when we are cold, thirsty, hungry, or not feeling okay. I personally love it a lot when they don’t overdo it with Coffee-Mate and condensed milk.

Any notable story: I never enjoyed street coffee until 3ammo Abu Mohammad, our coffee guy from FoodBlessed’s office. He might be more home to us than our actual homes, went through so much with us, so many days where we ate nothing and only drank his coffee. “It’s 3000 LBP for everyone, but it’s 2500 LBP for you,” he tells us every time. (It’s 2500 LBP for everyone)

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I started university today

You know it’s an overthinking kind of night when I’m listening tghayarti by el far3i. And not only because I think this is the most beautiful song ever made, but because I genuinely cannot listen to it without reminiscing.

I’m going through a lot of emotions, and they’re not necessarily bad ones, but they are a lot to fathom and absorb. I started caring again, and even though at times it makes me feel most alive, there are other times where I regret it. Caring for people only makes me vulnerable, and it’s not a color I like on me.

It’s funny how this world works, strange how different we are and how bizarre our lives might be, yet are all linked through eerie pretense of interdependency and social integrations.

I started my second BA today, and even though I could not attend any of my classes, it feels good to be back learning. Even though I would love nothing more than to exist in a university atmosphere and the excitement of still being a learner and observant of the later-on life, I know it is not possible.

Yet, I’m an optimist. I feel a certain ego of knowing so many things and being in so many places yet still learning the basics of social sciences and the methodologies of calculating demographies.

I’m not a study-type of person, I never studied as much as I should, and it’s not something I am proud of, but it’s also not something I was capable of doing. Even though I went through four years of university and 15 years of school, I never had an “overnight”. It’s not that my major didn’t require studying, because I know that most of my friends spent so many nights awake trying to study the hundreds of pages we were asked to memorize. But I never did.

I am not a study-type of person, but I am a learner. I love learning, I love people teaching me new stuff, and I would never skip an opportunity to learn about culture and history and the philosophical theories of being.

I may have a bad habit of wanting to know everything about everything, which is unfortunate as knowing everything leads to knowing little of every topic but never in-depth enough to discuss. Nevertheless, I still aspire to someday know everything about everything.

Even though my classes conflict with my working hours, I hope to attend a few classes. I attended the first 30 minutes of my demography class this morning, which was funny because our professor was a typical red-headed Lebanese University professor with tattooed eyebrows and a flattering red lipstick.

And even though one of the students had themselves unmuted and her baby was heard crying all the way to my supervisor’s office, and the professor freaked out because “why are you holding your baby in the middle of a class!” and a member of the student council introduced her to the gift of “mute all,” it felt like home.

What else?

Well, today, I woke up with morning anxiety, which was a first in three weeks. This morning, I realized that I hadn’t had morning anxiety in three weeks, which was the first time in I don’t know how many years.

What happened that even morning anxiety was gone, and why did it return today? I keep asking myself, and I might know the answer, but I don’t think I’ll tell you. I can tell you that a big reason behind my sudden tranquility is for sure due to the beautiful winter and due to the fact that Christmas is soon.

Also, I just started watching The Queen’s Gambit (thanks to bands for recommending!), and so far, I like it. I haven’t watched a good series since Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and it felt nice to escape reality for a few hours.

What else? I’ve been eating so much unhealthy, and I am very not proud of myself. I have also been drinking coffee a lot, which I know I will regret very soon. I was raised to stand against anything that is unhealthy and unsafe for my body, and the fact that I am eating so much chocolate and sweets every day makes me very wary.

Also, it’s Christmas soon.

I hope you’re doing well yourself.

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Loss

It’s scary how much we can love someone.

Never getting attached to anyone, always keeping a distance between ourselves and everyone around us in case they leave, in case they decide to disappear.

Then comes someone and sneakily breaks all the walls; we love their presence, their laugh, their talk, their silence. We remember them whenever we’re anxious, or whenever we’re sad because their memory is safe, it makes us happy.

It’s scary much loving them makes us feel alive, as if that’s it, that’s all we need from this horrid life, that’s all that is important amid hunger and injustice and destruction, loving them is all that is needed to stay alive.

It’s scary how much they can affect our days, our mood, and the rest of our week. An inane message, a word of kindness, or a smile – that one smile, that’s all we need to go back home at the end of the day and say ” ’twas a good day.”

Their talk, for once you don’t mind not talking, for once you want to hear their story without having to say yours. For once, you want them to talk for hours about everything and nothing in particular, and you listen so tentatively because even the smallest details matter. Because knowing what their favorite tree leaf matters to you, as long as it’s a thing that they said. It’s them talking to you; what can be more important than that?

And that smell, their holy smell. You close your eyes once you smell them nearby, their scented aroma precedes them, and you close your eyes because it’s too warm and it’s too sweet, and it’s too them.

But then what?

But then they leave, and it’s not a shock because the world is mortal and the prettiest flowers die, and everything must end. But it doesn’t make their loss easier. It doesn’t make the void feeling less piercing in a bleak abyss that makes its way through our chest and blackens the place where bliss once rested, because of them, the bliss and the blazes.

And then the feeling of the happy moments gets forgotten, and the aching nostalgia replaces those happy moments, and then comes the era of longing for a time where we were whole, where we were floating, where we were alive.

And we soon go back to closing our eyes every time their names are mentioned, every time we try to remember, every time we see a photo of them or affiliated to them, every time we smell a scent close to theirs. This time, we close our eyes not to preserve the moment, this time, we close our eyes to make it, the memory, go away, we close our eyes as if the loss we feel is before us, and if we close our eyes and don’t see it anymore, it might fade away.

And then one night, it’s 3:00 am, our bed is warm, our pillow is fluffy, and we still can’t sleep. And as we hold ourselves so tight in fear we might break, we wonder what would’ve happened if we never met them at all, because nothing-nothing-really seems worth the loss.

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Somebody else

I think you’ve realized by now that I love writing about music as much as I love listening to music, and as I’m listening right now to Somebody Else by The 1975 at 1:45 pm during a busy Monday, my hand started itching to tell you about it.

So I heard you found somebody else
And at first I thought it was a lie
I took all my things that make sounds
The rest I can do without

Somebody Else – The 1975

This is my second favorite song of all time, after tghayarti. No matter how much I listen to it, or whatever mood I am in, it always hits hard; I can always feel Matt Healy swaggering on stage while singing apathetically to this enchantment.

I don’t want your body
But I hate to think about you with somebody else

He sings this effortlessly; how can he sing this so effortlessly and still makes me feel so much? I didn’t think Matty could sing something more beautiful than Me, Settle Down, or Robbers, but then he released this and four years later I’m still in awe.

Also, am I the only one who thinks that the album title is the most beautiful title anyone can think of? “I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful yet So Unaware of It” (stylized in sentence case). Honestly, how gorgeous?

I think I’ve heard this song throughout so many times, but I think the one time that struck me the most, and that I felt it the most, was a December evening back in 2016.

I used to work at the Beirut book fair every year at my dad’s book stand after college. That day, there was so much wind that I really didn’t make much effort walking as the sea breeze was moving me on my own (the book fair is very close to the sea).

The sun was setting, and I remember looking to my right and seeing a beautiful skyline of the mountains, with a very grey sky. I took a photo of it (featured image), and I listened to Somebody Else.

It was a perfect moment, a perfect sunset; it was a perfect 10 days. I was already feeling so much during that time, and I met so many wonderful people at the book fair, who became a family to me. We would all meet for coffee, and I was invited over for dinner (mainly shawarma) at their book stands every day, and I was always given the leftover chocolate and flowers after book signings. It rained a lot during the 10 days, and we were often stuck inside the bookfair for hours, which made us feel like we are distant from our actual lives.

We spent hours talking about our lives outside the book fair. They would listen to me studying for my “Introduction to Political Science” exam that I didn’t exactly do well in. We would gossip about customers and visit each other during busy hours to tell each other the funny stories of the people who bought the weirdest books.

We were a group of 7, who spent almost ten hours every day with each other for around three weeks, so it kind of got addictive, and I would, of course, get attached and fall into depression after the book fair ends.

That time when I was walking to the bookfair, that sunset, the night before, one of my colleagues at the book fair told me that he likes me, and made me a customized bracelet. I didn’t like him, but I couldn’t tell him that I didn’t; I was too content with where I was, and I liked his attention, so I just let him be.

At that moment, I thought of him, listening to Somebody Else, and it was ironic because I had another person in mind that I liked, but I wouldn’t have told him. It was a very short crush, and I realized later that that was my worst crush ever.

I thought of my bad habits, always leading people even if I don’t like them, for my own pleasure and need of attention. It was my expertise to get close to someone and then leave when I’m bored because I didn’t really want them in the first place.

Fast forward a few months, I learned my lesson quite painfully. But that December night, that sunset, that cold breeze, and that mountain skyline, I was still enjoying the feeling of being loved and not reciprocating anything in return.

That moment, I fell deeply in love with Somebody Else, and I haven’t recovered yet.

I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful – yet so unaware of it.
I like it when you sleep, for I can go outside alone amongst the due and feel at last and one with you.
I like it when you sleep, for it is where the worries meet with all desires complex and small that materialize upon your wall.
I like it when you sleep, for smoking is great, and I do a lot more without you awake.
I like it when you sleep, for the things missed too and to know I’m alive longer than you.
I like it when you sleep, for the infinite sadness of London and losses and a fold-out mattress.
I like it when you sleep, for the reasons I can’t, so I jealously squirm and count moles on your arms.
I like it when you sleep, forgive me, my dear, for all the cocaine has imprisoned me here.
I like it when you sleep, for I’m guilty of work and match of the day and the girls that twerk
I like it when you sleep, for my return after weeks is an incomplete feeling when you are not dreaming.
I like it when you sleep, for, during the day, your breath lacks character.
I like it when you sleep, for I swear I’ll protect her from the wheedling, redolent, saccharine nectar.
I like it when you sleep, for there are cracks in my ceiling that I know like the back of my heart – and to learn of your body in half of that manner was something desired from the start.
I like it when you sleep, forbidden I sit in my chair for a bit.
I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful – yet so unaware of it.

(this is not song lyrics, just some words spit out of Matty’s brain)

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Mr Sandman

I have a hard time juggling between not overworking myself and not procrastinating for 24 hours straight. How can people find common ground? When they’re productive and do something useful because they actually want to, like paint and compose music?

Today was one of the laziest days ever, I almost napped 6 times during noon, and I spent a lot of time on my phone, and I really hate consuming so much screen time, so I’m not so proud of myself.

Is it just me who feels disgusted when I spend more than 4 hours of screen time? I literally feel so ashamed of myself, the same feeling I get when I overeat just because I can not because I’m hungry—the same feeling of shame and disgrace.

I try to convince myself that I also spent a lot of time today reading on my phone, but we all know it’s not an excuse. You could have started your application to Europe, nour, instead of spending an hour searching for furnished apartments rental in Amman.

Nonetheless, it was a good day. I’ve been getting so many sweet comments on this little messy blog this week, including two people who have been inspired to create a blog on their own, and it makes my heart very, very happy, so thank you, my lovelies, my heart sends you hugs and kisses 🙂

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Make her the cutest that I’ve ever seen
Give her two lips like roses and clover
And tell her that her lonely nights are over

Mr. Sandman – SYML

Also, did you know that this song exists? Because, wow. I am so absolutely in love with everything about the song, from the lyrics to his voice to the rhythm to the slow piano playing in the background. If you’re feeling a little more cheerful, you can listen to the original song by The Chordettes, but for me, I heart SYML cover.

Also, I don’t know if you noticed, but I just discovered that I can change colors. That’s cool.

What else?

Well, I also discovered that my big sister reads my blog too, and she was shocked when I told her that all the photos I use here (except the el far3i photo and the Audrey Hepburn ones, of course) are taken by me, so for clarification, if anyone else thought that I Google the photos, I do not.

Also, the lockdown has been lifted, starting tomorrow, which means that some of my mental instability will also return, which I find strange because I have noticed that during lockdowns, the voices in my head kind of take a break, and then they return once everything is back to normal.

I think it started tonight, and I don’t want that. I found myself overthinking an absurd text, the person behind it, and whether I’m anticipating something that does not exist, but I’m back to my usual “nour” habits; put more into something that is not even there, and believe it.

I think I will try this time to change my ways. My supervisor won’t work from the office tomorrow and is letting me decide whether I want to work from the office or home. I’m going to choose office tomorrow, because I have so many tasks I need to focus on behind a desk, and because this is not the choice I would have chosen had I not decide to change my ways.

One of the main reasons I am happy that the lockdown is over is because I can return to my coffeeshops, back to drinking coffee as I walk long roads only because it’s cold and I want to enjoy every bit of the frisky wind. For that, I have decided that I will give myself a reason to live every week, starting this week.

The reasons to live aren’t going to be major, like saving a cat or eliminating hunger; they will be minor and simple chores that personally keep me going throughout the week without feeling like drowning myself under the shower.

This week, after finishing work, I will be visiting one coffeeshop and getting my favorite coffee from theirs to go. The coffeeshops in mind:

  • Concierge
  • Backburner
  • Starbucks (because Christmas cups and I’m very mainstream)
  • B Hive
  • The Daily Roast, or a random espresso place
  • 3ammo Abou Mohammad’s coffee, if I had anything to do near FoodBlessed office.
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I’m only writing this because I’m listening to a new song

And I like writing when I’m listening to new nice songs.

Hi there,

I’ve missed writing here. The more I hear that people I know are reading my blog, the more I get happy-you can keep the feedback coming; I love those! And at the same, it gets harder for me to write because I think to myself, what if I’m not good enough for them? What if they knew who I might be writing about sometimes?

I wish I can be as apathetic and not care, but sadly I do. I do care about your opinion of me; even if I have developed a certain ego for writing, I still get happy if you tell me that you like my blog.

Anyway.

I love rain; I love the cold. It’s too beautiful, and it feeds my soul with so much peace and happiness I cannot describe it; I’m so relieved summer is over, my mental health absolutely could not fathom another day of humidity and sun.

I find thunder and lightning and darkness extremely soul-nourishing. I keep telling people that the only reason I might consider living in London is because of its weather, and people usually weirdly look at me. “If anything, people leave London for its awful weather,” my British friend keeps telling me.

But with all its messiness, I love everything about this weather, even the parts when I’m soaking wet under the rain, and my feet are freezing because my socks are all wet, and I have a red runny nose because of the sharp breeze, I still choose this over one droplet of sweat any day of the week.

So I’m sorry for all you summer-lovers, but I’ve had enough of my seasonal affective disorder (SAD); I almost died from the pain (I wish I did instead of living through the struggle); it’s okay if you felt a little fussy, let my heart heal.

Also, I realized this week that I had neglected a thing so dear to my heart; poetry. Poetry was an essential part of my life-reading and writing-and I cannot remember the reason why I haven’t been reading or writing for almost a year?

A dear friend reminded me of the beauty and the magic of good poetry, and I decided to return to my Sylvia Plath poetry book and discover the new poets and poems I was introduced to. (Thank you for reminding me; it’s reasons like this that I cherish you in my life)

Also (2), I was awakened today by these sweet messages, and it made me happy (like everything he usually does). I haven’t felt happy reading complimentary messages for years that I thought I don’t care anymore if somebody said anything, but lately, I’m retouched by so many neglected emotions. I am back to appreciating messages like these:

Thank you for the beautiful words, and even though you woke up hours after with an “I was quite intoxicated so more in tune with myself and my feelings” following message, I still value this.

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The story of a teacher caught sexually harassing his daughter during an online class

He just finished the online class he was teaching, feeling satisfied with what he has given to his students. It was a heavy session, he thought to himself, and his students seemed to be focused on the lesson, and it was tiring, yet still, it is much better to teach from home than from school, because at school, it would be much harder to see her.

He said his goodbyes to his students, threw a “see you later” smile, and gave them homework. Then, as he moved from the camera, feeling a certain lust, he knew so well where he could go to satisfy his lust. Ashamed of himself? Maybe, but his grown hunger for his daughter was stronger.

Little did he know that his desires for his daughter distracted him from turning off his camera and that the students were learning much more than he could have taught; they saw what it’s like to be tortured yet remain crippled.

This is not a story made out of fiction; this is a story that happened in Lebanon a few days ago. A teacher was caught sexually harassing his daughter on camera after forgetting to turn off his camera and after his students recorded everything and reported it.

He was arrested and is now away rotting seven stories underground- I hope. Imagine, imagine with me, that he did not forget to turn his camera off, and that no one saw what he does and did, and that he kept on harassing her for years to come.

He could have been my teacher, and I would see him every day and let him teach me whatever subject he teaches, and I would listen and study and ask him questions and wish he thinks I’m smart. I could be a student idolizing a teacher, and he could be at home kissing his daughter.

I’m sick to my guts. It could have been easily hidden, and it has been hidden for so long. Imagine the students were not brave enough to report him, were not mature enough to say anything; imagine the life of this little girl who is being exploited by the man who should protect her the most.

Imagine, try to imagine with me, how many girls, and boys, are suffering from the same indescribable cruelty, and in Lebanon only. Imagine that home is the most unsafe place to be in, yet they remain quiet. Imagine dying in pain every single day and still waking up in the morning.

Let us speak about sexual exploitation and abuse. Let us stand against the society that pushes us to stay quiet on sexual crimes, so we don’t scratch anyone’s “dignity.” Let us speak on their behalf and make sure they know that despite their pain, we can help.

We need to adapt more legislations and decrees that penalize sexual misconduct, whether at home, on the streets, at work, or online. Legislation criminalizing sexual harassment at home needs to be thorough and inclusive of all girls and boys living in Lebanon, including marginalized groups and LGBTI individuals.

Our courts need to adapt a PSEA policy that sides with survivors and protects them from abusers; even if/when the abusers are judges and lawyers themselves, the system needs to enforce prevention, protection, and penalization of legislators and society members in case of any breach.

Only when the system adopts women and girls’ rights to feel safe can we normalize ending SEA and gender-based violence within our communities and homes. Women and girls are the center of socio-economic growth in all societies; it is crucial to give them the safety needed to thrive and believe in equity and gender parity among all the sectors of their lives.

As a girl who was raised hearing that women’s image, reputation, and dignity can easily be demolished by a word or sexual innuendo or anything that has to do with sexual behavior and that a man is faultless and is raised to be a sinner, I believe that these critical injustices need to end now.

Raise your voice for women and girls to be seen as a vital part of our nations’ social development and not as sex objects. Raise your voice for thriving women and girls who can walk into any house, office, grocery shop, cafe, school, university, street, city, etc., and proudly say: “I feel safe here.”