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.