Author: Nour Abdul Reda

BA in Journalism, MA in Communication Sciences. Writer, dreamer, peacemaker.
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Back to the homes

Ola amigos, Como Estas? I’ve missed you.

I am currently writing on my flight back to Beirut from Dubai, after nine days of getting out, escaping, exploring what it is like to be in a place where all fundamental rights are given abruptly, where menstrual pads are offered in bathrooms and where my male friend can go out wearing black nail polish and be admired for it.

It is not that I like Dubai more or that I am praising it despite the transparent fragility of artificialities and faux pas; it’s just that we all deserve an equal chance to live with less stress and more social freedom. It is okay to be discrete and diverse and have people not know your name or where you come from. It is nice to be free.

I love how vibrant and social Beirut is; I do. You know how much I am very much in love with Beirut, you all know that, but Beirut refuses to give us an open window to breathe, to get out of its people and colors and insanely social occasions and obligations and the must trys and the frowned upons. It is indeed an exotic city and, at the same time, so conservative, and its existential crisis is driving my own existential crises down the abyss.

It was my birthday last Monday, November 1st, and it rained in Beirut, like every year-I like to call this God’s birthday gift, and I wasn’t there to celebrate my rain. I was soaking under the desert sun, buying Afghan bread, and observing cultures lurk through the bustling streets. It was hot, but instead of my usual agitation and sun loathe, I did not mind a little sweat in return for mere coexistence.

I want to tell you all about it, and I have a feeling I won’t because I don’t know why I always avoid writing about significant things that happen – maybe because I feel too much and I always avoid writing about the big things because they require a lot of energy and I am a sulker at best and a sloth at worst. (:

I might not tell you about the whole trip here, but you can ask me whenever and we can talk about it over coffee. What I will for sure be telling you about is the incredibly aching play I watched on my last night because I cannot stop thinking about it – so alluring and painful that I have been thinking about the play all day.

For now, I am listening to Amy Winehouse and thinking a lot about her these few days for different reasons, and I skipped the airplane meal because it is so inedible yet devoured on the coffee – who knew airplane coffee could be this good? I just finished the fourth episode of the second season of You, and I am thinking a lot about all the victims of sexual harassment who watch their lives burn before their eyes from a touch unwanted.

It is unfair, unjust, and crucial that most women experience, one way or another, sexual harassment. I have no words and will never fathom why a person would ever think he has the right to abuse another.

My airplane is starting to land, adios mis amores for now.

<3  

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Stressed out

Every time I come back here after a while, my head in between my legs with shame, I start singing Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots, and I’m Tyler in every word he says, and I am insecure, and I care what people think.

I’m at a Starbucks, and some dude just passed by me, and he is wearing a godly perfume. I literally can not concentrate anymore, literally forgot what I wanted to write. I am about to get out of my chair and sniff him. He smells so good.

How are we? Really? It’s not that I can help you or anything, I can barely help myself, but it’s good to hear how you really are; maybe you are having mental breakdowns and existential crisis issues, and you would like to see if somebody else might be as messed up as you are, because in reality, we all are, messed up, and even messier.

I should be doing well. I want to point out all the nice things going on, the usuals that I tell myself about, and then wonder what’s wrong with me, but then, honestly, what exactly is the definition of well?

I paused. I don’t know, really. I often feel guilty when feeling a certain way despite all the good things around me, and I am reflecting on all the good things I wanted to list, but all the points have loopholes, a little something that is making me a little stressed. And I think it’s fine. It should be fine.

I’ve been in a kind of emotional burnout, where I cannot with any more stress than the usual stress of literally surviving. I’m like for traffic, mum complaining about lettuce prices, friends obligations, extra hours of work: “please, not today. I will probably start yelling at the wrong people and cry the whole night, and I literally and wholeheartedly cannot cope with any stress.”

It [the burnout] started around May, heightened around August, and I am working on myself; I think I am improving, but I am still in the distress era, and I cannot handle you telling me anything I do not want to hear. For once, let me fight my demons the way I want to; let me rid myself of them and be free.

I am going to the gym – I actually started going last week (I went four times!!!!), but I won’t be able to go this week due to all the messed-up life and because I *fingers crossed until they’re red* am traveling next week. I am extremely patiently waiting for my passport to be renewed, and I still need to apply for the visa, which could take four days; I intend on traveling on Friday, and I really really want to travel.

But maybe I don’t, which is also fine. Usually, I trust the process.

Need to log off and go to therapy. I’ll see you around 🙂

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What is love?

Love is forbidding yourself from telling him you love him so he doesn’t get hurt, even though it’s 2:25am on a Monday and all you are thinking is of him and his arms around you.

I miss you, and I love you so, so, much and you don’t even know it.

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A song about safety is on repeat as I write this

This song, like many others, reminded me of you. I don’t know why I can’t write about you, even though you have been the most important character in my life for the past months, even though I’ve written about people I care less about, even though you are all I could think about sometimes, even though all songs these days are reminding me of you, even though I have around three unfinished posts of how I need to let you go, and I still can’t write about you.

I could barely write the five sentences above, even though what I am feeling is not little, and I have never felt this way towards anyone, ever. I’ve never felt this free towards anyone as much as I do with you. It makes so much sense to me, but it won’t to you; it makes no sense to you, and it upsets you, and I understand that.

You called me weird last week, looking straight in my eyes to see what I might react to that because we both know what you meant by weird, and I just shrugged it off with a smile.

You called me weird when you wanted to say: “your words used to contradict your actions, and it frustrated me. Now, your words and actions are the same, and you’re pulling me in, and now your words and actions are contradicting you, what you have told me before, how you have acted before, and you are just so weird.” But I understood that. I understood all of that, and you knew I did, even though I just looked at you and smiled.

And then you told me I over exaggerate when I tell you how important you are to me. We were talking about this person that annoys me with exaggerated words, and you told me: “but you do the same when you tell me you care about me most,” and I told you, “but I am not exaggerating. I am not telling you you are the most important person on earth; I am simply telling you that you are the most important person to me. And I mean it, whether you believe it or not.” And I mean it, but you don’t believe it, and I don’t believe that it is my fault you don’t.

When are you going, to be honest with me? I know you like me, you know that I know you like me, and you’re skeptical of how I feel towards you, but why can’t you tell me you still want me? I know you do, but I need to hear it from you.

I can see your jealousy radiating at different times, like when I showed photos of my old close friend, and when I asked you if you know him, you said: “I don’t, and I’m glad I didn’t.” And when I talk about other guys, you either stay very quiet or light your cigarette and walk away. I see you; I see you liking me, and all I need of you is to say it.

And I know you’re expecting the same, but I can’t say it because I don’t even know how I feel, so that it would be unfair. There was a time where I wanted to tell you everything, where I was too selfish. I didn’t care that everyone was telling me it would be stupid and that I would hurt you, but you kept shutting me out, and I know I can’t say it anymore because you gave me the time to think and rethink, and I can’t say it anymore. See what happens where we’re not honest? You even told me: “you’re so honest about everything, except the few things that you will never say. You are so weird.”

Anyway.

I will be creating a new category called “Memory of You.” This will be a series of moments I have lived with different people, describing the events and how they happened more vividly- to a point where the person might even know I am talking about them if they are reading. In each post, I will talk about a different memory with a different person where the memory touched my heart, a memory that still lingers by.

I have so many of those; I am already thinking of five different persons I would like to share a moment with here. It will be fun to write, and I hope it will be as fun to read. x

For now, I am talking to you, flirting as always, and now you are not replying. Come back, and stay, per favore.

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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.