Category: Home (to me)

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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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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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Let’s go away

To be sucked into a turmoil, unable to drift away, indulged in uncanny in denial and a lust for an escape, a swim in the middle of nowhere, fear of the heavily presence, and the inability to feel within the premises of internal agony and willing to live.

June’s almost over, and I haven’t written anything here. Maybe writing would bring me back, or maybe it’s a push, so I don’t feel like I’m not committing, like leaving in the middle, and then blaming myself for always taking the easy way out.

I’m not depressed; this is a fact. I am not even sad, generally speaking. I have my sad moments, and I am reigniting the shy kid involuntarily; even my sly social skills of not socializing at all are resurfacing, but I am doing okay.

It’s just I feel trapped, overwhelmingly more than usual. Granted, I’ve always felt trapped, and it’s part of my lavishing existential crisis, but it’s been severe lately. I finally understand people’s obsession with oceans; I’ve been craving the sea tremendously.

I finally understand the peace and freedom of diving into the middle of the sea and feeling like you own your space, like you own your liberation, like you can be nowhere, away, very far from your premonition and unbearable obsessions, leaving your heavily sedated baggage of unnecessary responsibilities and self-expectations on the shore.

Yet, no matter how much you swim deep, you can still look back and see the shore; it’s where you will land after you leave for a while. At sea, you sit stretched between the landing hole of maturity and life and the nothingness, and you rest assured that even though you can reach as far as you want into the nothing, there is still a land to go back to. That’s security; that’s my safety.

I am a child of trauma. No matter how much I fight it, no matter how much I act normal and try to blend in, I am a person who still suffers greatly from unresolved trauma. I see two therapists now; my usual therapy, whom I still love as much, and a trauma specialist that I hope can help me tackle the one trauma I want to overcome. I know it’s not healthy to see two doctors, and I don’t plan on juggling this for long; I’m just getting my feet wet and seeing if it’ll do me any good.

The trauma, my unresolved anger, the stress, it’s all getting pretty serious because it is affecting my physical health and not just taking a toll on my mental health. I’ve been sick for a while, but I usually dismiss anything that has to do with my physical health.

Still, two months of unbearable nausea that does not go away, significant weight loss, body aches, back pain, and a high fever on Sunday made me wonder. Nour, you may need to slow down and see what all the fuss is about.

I am a child of trauma, and my brain is wired to live on survival mode and internal search for safety, and I am still roaming deep. I have figured this out through my work with children from traumatic backgrounds; the resemblance in behavior and actions were intolerable, I realized that I have barely healed.

I’ve had great moments in the past month, some may be one of the best memories I have, and I remain grateful. Right now, I am picturing a sunset by the seashore, and I am listening to an idyllic song; I am in a state of peace. Maybe soon I can share a little of what has been going on with me lately, maybe soon I can return home.

For now, I need my sea time.

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To feel – a feeling never shared

“To feel” Disclaimer: I am going through my drafts and posting unpublished posts. This may be written a month ago, or years back, so no need to link this to a face you know (or even to you).

I’m jealous of a place only because you are in it without me. I’m jealous of the place that gets to spend time with you, that gets to see you when I am only damned to a few hours with you. I am jealous of the time that passes that you don’t talk to me in.

Do you ever get that feeling? That even though you just saw this person, you still can’t get enough of them. And you don’t know if it’s reciprocal. I don’t know if you feel the same way, or if you lust for extra time with me, or not. I know you like spending time with me, but lately I’ve been feeling too much and a little more than I want to.

I just want to see you more. I want you to talk to me now and always. I want to see you, a lot it’s killing me. I know I just saw and talked to you a few hours back, and I know I saw you this week more than usual, but I want to see you more. I want you to look at me as you do, and talk to me as you do, I want to make your eyes smile and make you laugh.

I want you to be here with me. Talk to me, tell me everything. I’m listening. I always listen to everything you say, and even if I was not as focused at the moment, I replay the whole conversation in my head when I’m alone thinking of you and thinking of how much I want to know more.

I have a sudden urge to tell you everything, tell you how I am feeling and tell you I want to see you more. What could go wrong? You not wanting to see me? Would you do that? Would you keep distance? I don’t want to scare you, I don’t really want anything of you, just a few extra days of being with you, is that too much to ask for?

The thing is, I don’t even know what I’m feeling. I’ve been in love before, and this is not how it felt like. You’re just extremely safe. Today at my coldest moment, the only person I could think of to keep me safe was you. I haven’t felt this way about you for a while, but today as I watched you do your thing, and as you left me and as I lived through anxious moments, I only thought of you.

I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I know that I love everything about you. My favorite thing is your smile, you talking to me, and your smell. Oh God, your smell. I could think of your smell for hours.

Please, let me see you this week. Let us talk. Ask to see me, because I’m too proud to ask. Please ask to see me, I’m begging you. Right now, at the moment, there is nothing I want more than to see you in a few days. Please. If I don’t see you this week, I won’t see you in two weeks, and this pains me.

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I hope you never know this is about you

I hope you never know this is about you – There were times when I wanted you closer, even though you were sitting right next to me. There were times when I looked in your eyes and listened to every word you said and I wanted you to talk more and I wanted this moment to be longer than it was, a moment, and stay there.

There were times when I was at my most vulnerable, and you staggered around me and chose to linger by. There were times where you chose me over everyone, leaving them waiting and decided to be with me, and it touched my empty heart. There were times when my guts were burning, and my heart was throbbing, and my head was twinging, and you walked by and silenced all the voices with a random story about goats and yogurt. 

There were times when I wanted to share my sadness yet I remembered you are my happy place and sharing my sadness with you meant letting you in to my life and I didn’t want to let you in, I wanted you to remain a happy place outside the sadness, I wanted you to still  see me as innocent and far rather than see the darkness that feed upon me.

Most of the people in my life walk away once they get closer, because they can’t bear my sadness. I never force anyone to bear anything, but they linger by and insist on being closer to me, and then I share and stand there bear and show the colors of my sadness, and they decide it’s too much for them, so they leave and I remain there, naked and exposed. “You got too depressive for me,” some said, and others thought.

And I didn’t, don’t, want that to happen with you. I want you to stay where you are, and I don’t want you outside that frame, because I know how this might go, and I know this might end.

We started as casual talkers, laughing at my childish behavior and your smart talk. Then you decided you wanted to know me more, then you decided you want to spend all your free time with me, and now even though you have no time to spend with me, you still choose me.

You ask all the right questions, and you look straight into my soul with your wide eyes and your dentist-like smile waiting to hear me out, and it makes me feel very special for a moment or two until I remember that it’ll probably won’t stay like this for long.

You’ll probably shorten your time with me, not because I don’t mean anything to you, but because it meant to me more than it meant to you. Or I’ll probably share with you my sadness, and you don’t deserve that kind of responsibility, and you’ll probably leave me be.

The thing is, I want to share you, I want to show you off. I want to tell more stories that define you and specifics that happened like the stories you tell me and our incidents and shenanigans. Yet, I fear of a moment of weakness, where I get too stupid and share this blog with you, and you read this and sit there frightened to your core, because this was never your means and intentions, and you never wanted to read about yourself on somebody’s depressive blog. 

And I don’t want that. This is why I’ll keep you in the frame I have put you in, this is why I won’t allow myself to think of you outside that frame, I won’t allow you outside, I won’t allow you close. I won’t call you a friend, I won’t put a label on you and I will not talk about you to many people.

That way if you left, for whatever reason, it’ll be okay, and I’ll still cherish you and I’ll remember your laugh and smart jokes and think to myself, ‘even though he’s not in my life anymore, and even though his memories are pretty, I am not upset because he did not leave because of my sadness, and I respect anyone leaving for anything except that.‘

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My friends are coming over today

My friends are coming over today – Sorry for not posting as much as before; I think starting today and until the end of summer, I will be writing less. I can write when I’m happy and sad, but never when I’m agitated, and summer is where my agitation devilishly thrives.

I finished all my to-do lists today, with extra chores assigned for later and I finished a deadly deadline before due time ;), and I still have 15 minutes to spare. I could go home early, sulk in the ‘spring warmth,’ and prepare for my friends coming over for iftar, but I thought to barf some randomness here.

The thing is, in Ramadan, I never know if what I’m feeling is really what I’m feeling or if it is the effect of lack of food. I know that in the meantime, I’m not really a big fan of work, as the hours in Ramadan seem doubled and tripled, and right now, the one day at the office feels like 56 hours.

I know that I’m thrilled to see my friends tonight, even though I saw them on Saturday, and even though I don’t see them as much as I used to, and as much as I want, I love them beyond words.

They are the only safety left for me amid all the uncertainty, throughout all my fears, worries, and inane dilemmas; seeing them has always been the escape from the world I live in, and I am grateful they are still in my life, or at least most of them.

One of them is now in Canada, so we usually Facetime her whenever we’re together, and we talk about the most random of things and laugh at nothing in particular. In these times of insecurity and feeling like the biggest part of my life is falling before, I long for their presence near me as they are now my only sense of grounding.

What are we having for iftar?

I’m glad you asked! See, two years ago, I invited the same friends over for iftar, and one of them requested kibbet batata. My mum made it, and he loved it so much! Ever since, every time we are invited to anyone’s place, they always make him kibbet batata, sometimes even for breakfast. This year mum thought to break the habit and make kibbet banadoura 🙂

Other than that, we’ll be making Cajun chicken pasta, which quickly climbed its way to one of my favorite food, and kabseh (rice), along with the usual appetizers. Also, my mum makes the single GREATEST zucchini soup, but every time we tell people about it, they all have that same ‘yuck’ expression on their face, so what we will be doing today is that we will encourage them to eat this green creamy soup without telling them what it is, and after they love it, we will disclose the truth!

What else?

Well, I remain forever grateful. I thank my God for the life I was given and the people I have in my life. One of my close friends is an artist, and he just finished a huge memorial for the victims of the Beirut Blast, paying tribute by hand-drawing their portraits and giving them center stage in Downtown Beirut.

I have been supporting him with the project since January, and yesterday, he went live on TV to say that because of me, he did not quit, and he actually went with it after my insistence, even though there were so many times where he was hesitant.

I am grateful to be part -even if it’s almost negligible- of the impact he has created for the families. I am grateful for the minimal impact I may have on the world. I am grateful for a world so beautiful, yet it lets me live within.