Homeless…

I was running an errand and I had to go to a home appliances and hardware store, and it hit me right there…

I am homeless.

I have been since I gave birth to my Beem! Since then, I lived with my in-laws and my sense of belonging to my own home vanished one day after the other; I couldn’t do my laundry whenever I wanted, yet I had to do it before anyone else beat me to it, making me look and feel like an incompetent wife. My life became even more stressful because I felt like a guest in addition to dealing with being a new mom. I kept failing one task after the other because I was spread too thin.

After I gave birth to my Mocha, I was back to my parents’, and until last May, I was struggling for my divorce. I have a room separate from the rest of the household, it has its own bathroom and it’s own “living”. However, I could never really do any of the little random purchases for none of the things I bought matched or belonged to my parents’ place, just like I no longer belong.

I stood there, staring at the laundry hamper trying to figure out if I shall buy it and keep it in my stuffed room anyways! The thought led to how I need to re-paint the damn room and get a closet to fit all our stuff in it, one thought led to the other and the final conclusion was clear, I do not have a home.

I know it’s a roof above my head and my kids’, but it’s not a home, not my home. I constantly feel like I have to abide by rules I supposedly outgrew just because I live under that roof. I am forced to go to Alex whenever there’s a family event, I am forced to go on vacations, I abide by dumb curfews because I do not want to upset my dad and because I owe them that little for taking care of me and my kids! Well, day after another, I feel less loved in this place, and it is most likely my oversensitivity, but I constantly feel used and disposable in a sense, and I don’t have the right to object because it’s not my place.

I need my place. I need to sit down and write how much it will cost me to move out and start making a plan, and follow it. I have no idea if it’s the right thing to do for either myself or my kids, but I am no longer sure what’s right; there are no guidelines, and every freakin’ thing is relative and all I know is that I can’t go on like that anymore!!

Some of what I have gotten figured out so far…

This is not exactly a post; it is only post material because it was too long a reply for IBHOG’s comment on my previous post, and well, it got me to reflect a little bit on who I am!

I must say that it will be in the form of a comment reply, only with a beginning and an ending for each sentence and appropriate capitalizations when there should be any… here is goes:

I do not hate gray areas as much as I used to (I am 28, no longer 22, it could be an age thing). Now, I acknowledge and accept the gray area, but I never feel comfortable there myself. I remain emotionally detached from those who prefer
the gray area as much as I try not to judge them for it. If I am to give a person the keys to who I am, they can either be black or white; then leave it to me to take whatever risks there might be, knowing what the stakes are!

I would never forgive or trust someone who had lied to my face. I have told my own share of lies when I –thought I- had to out of self-preservation, but they were never told with cold blood. It's actually very easy to tell when I am lying regardless of how brilliant my lie is (I don't lack the logical imagination). I no longer tell lies because they are simply not worth it, not worth how undignified would feel when those lies unravel, and lies always do!

Right and wrong, I see them clearly. Even when I am choosing wrong over right, I would never fool myself or justify by lying; when I do wrong, I either think it's right and admit it later with shame written all over me, or I simply say "it is probably wrong, but I am doing it anyway" (stubborn as a mule syndrome). But I know not everyone sees things the way I do, or at least I keep reminding myself of that on daily basis (I am seriously thinking I’d have it written in a bold font, framed and put on my night stand).

I can’t say I have an eye for victims. If anything, I could be intolerant of the cliché victims, the ones that whine and complain nonstop; I tend to think that the real victims are the ones who have too much pride to sit around and mope, so they try to pretend that it’s all ok. I see them, and I wish I could hold them and let them cry the tears I never could, but then I would ruin the act they maintain to be able to… live?

I’ve been told a lot that I am a child and that I am really naïve, and I am aware of that because I still take certain things for granted. However, I think I have been shocked in a sense because the very same things I take for granted are the ones I am forced to constantly doubt!!!! For example, I am known for that phrase “why would he/she lie, they they really didn't have to!”, but now I find myself analyzing things I’ve been told making sure I didn’t miss any hidden meanings that could change the whole message I was sent!!!

It could be what bad experience has done to me, but why do I still act all naïve like no one would expect?? (I have two friends who constantly send out vibes that they want to snap my neck because I am “sazga”). But with every singly birthday, and with every month away from it, I find myself wondering where my years have gone and wonder how I missed out on the little things I wanted to do when I feel too old to do them already!! It’s sad and I don’t dwell; thank God for my short attention span, sometimes I think I cling to it with everything I got to help me survive.

I talk with myself since the day I mastered speech. I had all sorts of imaginary friends until I finally settled that there is another me who listens and understands like no other. We talk a lot and we get along most of the time, and I am miserable when we’re mad at one another. I see every conversation I had/about to have with anyone in so many scenarios and sometimes I finish the conversation differently in my head just to put my troubled soul at ease.

Would you sleep with a mind that functions that way? I sleep, for two hours, and then I wake up and think some more until my thoughts take me back to sleep and then abandon me two our later to wake up on a new thought. I am a very light sleeper and I barely wake up feeling like I’ve had enough sleep.

I don’t know how to say the words I have in mind, I write them better than I say them. Ironically, my therapist showed amazement at how articulate I am when I first visited her. But I have a friend who agrees that I blurt stuff more than I should, and that it sort of gets me in trouble most of the time.

I only know I live in a bubble because I have been told that by almost everyone I know!! And because since the moment I decided to believe them, and took a real step out of my bubble and tried to see things for what they really are, I rushed back into my bubble and wished I never stepped out. Fetal position comes to mind when I think of my bubble versus the real world!

As for being strong, it comes and goes, when it goes, I see myself falling into little pieces, but Alhamdulilah it comes back shortly after and I see myself being gathered again!! I wish I could describe it more eloquently, but it’s the closest to how it feels most of the time; it could be because I am moody or I could be moody because my strength comes and goes, either way will do!

Compassion and carefulness, I don’t know, but sometimes I find myself unable to show the compassion I feel because I am afraid I would be intruding or that my compassion would be misinterpreted as sympathy and would bruise someone’s pride in the process, and it hurts to think that! Is that carefulness, or just some sort of temporary emotional paralysis? I am cynical, but under that thick layer of cynicism, hides a helpless Utopian who has high hopes, the kind that sends me blindly to my own cliff, don’t they say that cynics are the mushiest, or something of the sort?

Thanks IBHOG for helping me put what I knew about myself in words!

The rest of the reply to your comment belongs to the comment page, because it’s not about me to publish.

Mafeesh Fayda!!

I'm joking and laughing as if there were no tears a while ago!

I'm telling myself that it was no big deal and that I better stop obsessing and move on already!

I'm too stubborn to allow myself to ache and take time to heal, God forbid I would collapse in the healing process, hasn't he said that in my stubbornness lies my strength!

So I lock it in, stand up and pretend nothing ever happened, it's easier, comme d'habitude!

I do it knowing that I am just burying something that will rise later to haunt me, and I am saying it's ok; I'll be stronger by then!!

But I know it will hit me when I need to be strong to make me weaker...

Yet I'm doing what I do best, I laugh and change the subject with a witty joke!!

In retrospect

The movie…

He looked like him. In real life, he doesn’t; just the petite structure and the haircut and the little beard.

He behaved like him. Not exactly, just the humor and the charm and the selfishness, only in real life he showed more kindness that hid the selfishness, kindness that made all his mistakes forgiven.

He reminded me of him when he shaved off that hair. Only in real life, he had bigger brown eyes, and higher cheekbones, the features we share.

I cried because under layers of years that hold anger, contempt and disappointed, I realized that I missed him.

The club…

I needed someone who would charm my boys and play with them like he did with me, I thought of him.

I needed someone who’d throw a punch for me without thinking of consequences, I thought of him.

I needed someone who’d hold me and tell me that it will be ok, and I realized I needed him, not him him, the him I thought he was.

The restaurant…

I finally talked about it, it was too clear in my head that I missed him and I needed him. I knew I did because I was vulnerable. Alhamdulilah, I had a great friend to listen.

I didn’t say how he disappointed me, I don’t think I really remember anymore, but I still don’t forgive him, and I know for a fact that I would never tell him how I miss him or need him if we ever talk again, not that I think we ever will.

Yesterday…

I kept going back to that little girl; I envied and pitied her for all she had…

She had the warm loving arms that she appreciated…

She had safe arms that she missed and idealized…

She had warm, loving, safe and overprotective arms that she resented and couldn’t appreciate…

She didn’t see things clearly. Like the movie, she needed lots of time to figure things out for what they really are, but in her case, a lifetime…

A lifetime where she stopped hanging around the warm loving arms that she loved until they were no longer there to hold her…

A lifetime of mistakenly believing in the safety of the arms she missed to realize that those arms were nothing but a heartbreaking disappointment…

A lifetime of avoiding and rejecting the warm, loving, safe and overprotective arms that she couldn’t bear, now, all she wishes she could do is hide in those arms and cry all those lost years… but she’s afraid… afraid of all the questions, afraid of the tears, afraid of being overwhelmed… but most of all, terrified of losing those arms the moment she surrenders to them…

A lifetime full of stupid mistakes she did because she never turned to those arms...

Yesterday, all I wanted was to run in those arms and cry, but I didn’t want the questions that I couldn’t answer and I didn’t know how to show my vulnerability, so I didn’t… I couldn’t even cry on my own…

Right now…

Tears keep flowing with every word I type! I am not crying, tears just fall out of my eyes hurting my eyes but not easing my soul.

And I still feel unable to find the words that tell any of it, it’s too hard to describe it to begin with…

I miss when my pain could find its way out without me looking for words, and I miss him and how he could have fixed me… I take a glimpse at my little mementos and try to remember his words to guide me, but I feel too confused right now…

I’m trying to learn from all the things that revealed themselves in the past days, trying to figure out how to fix myself so that I would not repeat any of my mistakes.

I don’t want to compile unpleasant experiences and lock them. I don’t want to pretend they never happened and they never affected me until they find the chance to haunt me and mess up my life like tides ruin sand castles… I want my life to be more than sandcastles, and I have no idea how…

Pending Reflections…

At the Physiotherapist’s…

“Just relax, let go!”
“I can’t!!”


At my Birthday Party…

“I am just too happy that I have nothing in mind that I can possibly wish for!”


My friend…

“Well sounds like you're surrounded by ppl who love you”

“What would you wish me?”
“Happiness, eternal happiness”


Will…

“Life is treating me well since my BD!!!”
“I think life thinks you've had enough”
“hehe, only it's never smart to actually believe that; life usually waits till u completely let your guard down”
“Well sometimes it's smart to believe that for a while”


At the Hairdresser’s while having my nails done…

“enty betsheddy a3sabbek awy!”
“haha, ma3lesh asfa, asly wakhda 3ala keda!”


So to sum up what I had in mind…

I am incapable of just relaxing and enjoying the good stuff that life gives me!

Yet, apparently when I am happy, my friends seem to wish me more happiness because I am such good company that way!

I worry… and I am too afraid of letting my guard down; it's understandable given all I've been through! Or so I would like to believe.

I am too tense, even when I am supposedly relaxed!!

What can I say, I’d rather be hit to the face as painful and humiliating as it can be, rather than being stabbed in the back; at least I can see it coming.

Today I was slapped at the face, and it still felt too personal and as painful as a stab in the back!

Bounced back instantly though; if there is anything for me to have learnt during those past few days was that happiness is too precious to be lost over such a jerk, or any other jerk for that matter!

I have a couple of things to learn… keep on my exercises so that my back wouldn’t relapse… and learn to bask in my happiness and enjoy it to the fullest; let my guard down and hope my happiness will protect me!

Still, hold on to the things that make me who I am because these are the things that make me deserve the good things I have…

So change, and yet remain who I am!

And I thought it was gonna be hard!

A Quick Reflection…

Yesterday, I decided to go to bed really early since I have one hell of a busy week ahead of me. I normally don’t have any before-bedtime rituals, but for some reason I lingered in front of my dresser.

Something about my messy curls made me decided to take a longer look and fix my hair. Untying my hair band I didn’t feel like brushing the curls loose, so I just fixed it with my hand and kept observing my face.

I looked different… I admit I had a glow about me, a glow I haven’t seen in such a long time!

For the first time in years, I looked at my face and felt pretty! I liked how almost round my face looked although round is not how anyone would describe my face. I liked how especially pink my cheeks were even though I blush as a reflex action to happiness, anger, excitement, heat, embarrassment, and you name it! Most of all, I liked how bright and shiny my eyes were.

Yes, despite all the inconveniences and my childish reaction towards them, I had it in me to be happy!

I washed my face, prayed, and jumped into bed.

Although my body was beat, my spirit was rather too high for me to fall asleep right away.

Without noticing, I found myself daydreaming… and that was when it hit me! I don’t even remember the last time I daydreamed!!! ME! I usually daydream 3ala roo7y!! That was when I realized that I have been swallowed up in all the stress, anxiety and drama to the extent that my subconscious gave up on daydreaming and crippled my imagination.

A big smile made its way to my face, visions of people and places kept flowing through my mind so smoothly; millions of happy scenarios and millions of imaginary possibilities that somehow made my spirit calm as if some invisible arms were holding me safe. And before I knew it, I was sound asleep, no insomnia!

I can hear my cynical self telling me I am digging my own grave with all those dreams; building up expectations and hopes over things that I can’t control! Who cares, I am happy for now, and as for my daydreams, nothing is carved on stone here.

Allahuma eg3aloh kheir…

I went to bed after midnight.

I woke up somewhere before salat el fagr because my face was itching me like hell to find that one of my babies left some candy wrapper on the pillow and it was driving my skin crazy. I washed my face with cold water and made a mental note to pray if I stay up until I hear the azan.

I didn’t wake up, at least not until I had that dream. Part of that dream had to do with my company having an exhibition next week and that we will start working on related arrangements starting the weekend.



I walk into the office to find a florist whom I have never seen before giving the driver and the office boy instructions on how to help him with the flower arrangements they were preparing for an after-exhibition gathering at out premises.

I see beautiful white cala lilies (you know the ones with yellowish insides) and he was telling them they look great with vanilla flowers (pale yellow, and extremely beautiful, I never knew vanilla flowers were involved in such flower arrangements!!)

So I stand there completely overwhelmed at the sight of those beautiful flowers and I keep trying to inhale all their aromas and savor them in my nostrils.

I ask the office boy to make my office arrangements with those, and he tells me alright and asks me to check the other kinds of flowers they left in my office.

I walk in to find three beautiful flower pots which had not yet been mixed or arranged; one containing orchids (ORCHIDS!!!) and the other two containing some sorts of exotic flowers, the really colorful kind!

That when I lean forward towards the flower as if to hug them (I actually do that with flowers in real life) and keep sniffing them so happily.



Ahem, I woke up with one side of my nostrils blocked, but I had one big dumb smile on my face. It was already around 6:30. I could see the sunlight coming through the window but I was too lazy to move, so I just turned on my other side and continued sleeping while murmuring “alhamdulilah”.

My kids woke up in a good mood today. I prayed, wore a purple top and my charm pendant! Later I remembered what Dr. Magdi said about the Color purple and how it signifies spirituality! Anyway… I want to remain that positive, I need it, especially that today is the birthday party the nursery is throwing my Mocha.

Oh oh, and my feel good song played in the car and I kept singing and teaching my Beem the lyrics. It was Robbie Williams’ Beyond the Sea... I wanted to leave you with the version performed by Kevin Spacey since it definitely puts a smile on my face, but since I couldn't, the one by Robbie Williams will do, I like its music more!

This is what I'm singing to myself...

The Details in the Fabric

Calm down...

Deep breaths...

And get yourself dressed... instead Of running around

And pulling all your threads saying

Breaking yourself up

If it's a broken part, replace it

If it's a broken heart then brace it

If it's a broken heart then face it

And hold your own

Know your name

And go your own way

Hold your own

Know your own name

And go your own way

And everything will be fine

Everything will be fine

Hang on... Help is on the way

Stay strong... I'm doing everything

Hold your own

Know your name

And go your own way

Hold your own

Know your name

And go your own way

And everything, everything will be fine

Everything...

Are the details in the fabric

Are the things that make you panic

Are your thoughts results of static cling?
Are the things that make you blow

Hell, no reason, go on and scream

If you're shocked it's just the fault of faulty manufacturing.

Yeah everything will be fine

Everything in no time at all

Everything...

Hold your own

And know your name

And go your own way

Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)

Are the things that make you panic

Are your thoughts results of static cling? (Go your own way)
Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)

Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way)

Is it Mother Nature's sewing machine?
Are the things that make you blow (Hold your own, know your name)

Hell no reason go on and scream

If you're shocked it's just the fault (Go your own way) of faulty manufacturing

Everything will be fine

Everything in no time at all

Hearts will hold

Amen!!

On a day that tried all it could to be a good one…

Yesterday was such a strange day!

From 6 am to 6 pm it spelled trouble all over the place to the extent that I had decided to call it a day and sulk in bed as I waited for the day to end.

Luckily Mayo made it better by joining me on a Riff Band night at Sa2yet el Sawy…

The band played all my personal favorites, almost all of them, and I mean stuff I secretly hoped I'd listen to!!!! I only didn’t know two songs or something, and I enjoyed all of it despite my blue mood and the backache that was making it a bit painful to move with the music.

Later, Mayo made me smile even more with all the stuff she said even after I was home, and I got the chance to chat a bit with a friend. It’s fair to say the day ended nicely that way.

Even after I fell asleep, I could feel my mom getting into the room to make sure the kids and I were tucked in bed. For the first night in God knows how long, I didn’t overhear her cursing at me during my sleep; instead, I heard prayers!!

It really felt like the day was trying to make up for the mess-ups but I guess I was just too jaded…

Nonetheless, I feel grateful in a way, even for the strangeness!

After a couple of stressful weeks!

I freeze…

It is cold here, I am sweating and getting colder, I am shivering…

My whole body is stiff, the kinda stiff you feel when you’re too cold, only I am not that cold!

My tongue feels too big for my mouth; it’s making it hard for me to swallow, and my jaw is too stiff

My heartbeats are racing and I can feel my ears about to explode…

My colleague walks in and rushes to the buffet to get me mango juice…

I hate mango juice, and I hate stuff that are that sweet, but I feel too paralyzed to object. “drink it fast, you’re low on sugar, I haven’t seen you eaten anything in the past couple of days and 7ar2et el dam bete7ra2 sokkar, eshraby! Matboseleesh kheda”

Was I looking at him?

I can’t breathe… no, I can, I am just too conscious of every breath I take, it’s too much work to take air in and push it back, I can see my chest moving upwards and downwards and it never felt that straining…

The office boy walks in later with lemonade and puts it right in front of me… I say nothing

My colleague walks in again and tells me “DRINK IT!”… I wave my hands to tell him I can’t hear him, it’s like my eardrums are beating in deafening silence and I can’t hear words… I murmur “bardana awy”… e runs to turn off the central A/C and makes a joke, ironically I laugh as if I got it but it was basically because I felt sorry for him trying to make me laugh!

I force myself to focus… I call my sis and tell her that I’ll call the babysitter to meet her up at the nursery to pick the boys. I confirm with the babysitter. I call the nursery to let them know who will pick the boys.

I force myself to walk to that armchair in the hidden corner of my office so that no one can see me through the glass…

I sit head in my hands and I keep trying to force the thoughts to float in my head… you can’t afford to collapse, not now, not with all that’s going on; you need your strength, pull it together…

My boss walks in, takes a quick look at me, leaves to his room, and moments later he’s back with his jacket on and his brief case in his hand, and he says in a non-negotiable tone “yalla hawasalek el beet”

I go home, I sleep, I sort of eat, but I still feel out of my element!

I hope it ends soon… I hope it ends well soon! Deep down I am almost sure it will! YA RAB

as incoherent as it is...

When I’m afraid, I face my fears. Unless my fear is about consequences that are certain to happen and which I know I cannot handle, I use my stubbornness to do exactly the thing I am afraid to do. I am not bragging, it’s just how I function, and I admit it had taken me to all the wrong places; it’s not a virtue to live fighting with life and do the opposite of what everyone tells/expects you to do. For that, people who see my strength tell me I am daring and unique; they don’t know the battles I fight with my fear and the crazy things I do to win!

I can’t live without hope. Take it away from me and you'll watch my spirit wither and fade leaving nothing but the anger and resentment I try on daily basis to let go of! Yes, I have those; the scars left by my war wounds, wars where I mostly fought myself! I hope it will all be better once I figure out a way to like myself enough to stop all the fighting. I know I have it in me to be better but I get lost a lot because of my pride.

My heart is so… stupid. It’s stupid among so many other things, but stupid makes the top of the list because its stupidity has the power to take over my brains and make the wrong things seem right! I mistake a lot of things for the right things that way. I let go of my mind and its logic and the sense it makes to follow my stupid heart to where I overly abuse my mind and heart thinking about all the things others might take for granted.

My body is frail when my soul is that weak. And my soul is weak because I seem to take my faith for granted most of the time; how arrogant! My hands are cold and they seem to cramp every time I try to move them. I have a huge lump in my throat and I know I could use a cry but unfortunately I no longer cry the way that would ease my soul, I only cry the way that would hurt my eyes, my blurry eyes!

Every day is a battle to keep a balance that barely lasts for enough time to make an achievement! And I want so much of life, I want to make a lot of things and be a lot of things and sometimes it is too draining to be! I expect too much of people, but the tragic part is that I expect even a lot more from me, more than I can ever be.

And you, you messed that balance for such a long time. It gave me perspective on who I was as I was trying to mend and heal. I took what is probably my first lesson of self discovery and I took it through humility. I am grateful because it was an eye opener to a lot of things I took for granted until they were no longer real. It is knowing that there was something bigger to find and realize that made me find it in me to stop hating you.

Why isn’t that enough for you? It was enough for me! I know we’re not the same, but it’s you who insists that we are!

You just had to push until you made me burst! all you had to do was blame me and ask me to "think of the boys and think of sacrificuing for them before throwing us away" and I found myself saying those words...


Stop it, stop it right there… don’t make me set you straight on this one, don’t make me tell the story again, don’t you dare twist that story, don’t you dare believe your own lies and make a twisted truth out of them!
I was there, not just once, but twice, I let you fool me twice because I didn’t want to throw “us” away and I got my heart broken and I got my ego bruised and I took the time to stand on my feet, so don’t you dare pin it on me just because I am handling it better than you, because I seem stronger…
I am only strong because I resent being the victim but that does not mean you get to become the victim and make me the bad guy! I will not let you.
If you need to know that I have it hard, if that will make you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’ll suffers, let me tell you about my suffering yemken te7es be ne3met rabena 3aleik…
I am the woman in this plot, I get to be blamed by society unless they know the dirty details that you know I am too proud to share…
I am the one who’s either too stupid or too arrogant to a7afez 3ala beity we goozy…
I am the woman most of the other married women will fear that I might steal their husbands, or if I’m lucky, they will pity me because I don’t have a man!
I am the woman who will go to bed every night after I kiss my kids in their sleep hoping that my choice will never affect them in a bad way…
I am the one who tries to smile as I try to accept the fact that no loving fingers will stroke my hair before I fall asleep and no arms will hold me when I am restless…
I am the one who people will always tell me “but you’re too young to remain single for the rest of your life” yet would point accusing fingers at me if I decide to live my life in a way that makes me happy without violating any of their stupid rules, they will assume I am a bad mother and I am an easy woman…
It’s all me, not you… and I am facing those fears by telling myself that for the first time my instincts are backed up by logic and solid evidence… I am telling myself there is hope in a tomorrow, a hope that I’d be killing if I come back to you out of fear…
My heart is overwhelmed and it’s driving my mind crazy, but I know in my gut I am making the right thing yet I have to constantly remind myself of that or I’ll go insane!
So don’t pin it on me and say you’ve tried because it was you who sent me in that direction and I stopped blaming you for it!


And yet, you're still pushing!

Why doesn't revenge taste so sweet?

Did I ever mention that I find vengeance to be one of the most interesting notions? It is; it’s such a drive that has its very own strong momentum and it can just drag for years and years, and like it or not it’s behind a lot of good plots be it in reality or fiction.

Is it a co-incidence that most of my favorite movies revolve around the consuming idea of vengeance. When I first read A Tale of Two Cities, as appalled as I was by Madame De Farge’s unforgiving pursuit of Charles Darnay and his family, deep down, I couldn’t help but sympathize for the amount of injustice she’s been subjected to which completely changed her into what she’s become. You must react to that kind of hurt and feel for it even if it turns into something so cruel.

When I read The Count of Monte Cristo, I was satisfied with Edmond’s revenge and it was as if I was getting my own. Yes, I believe in payback and it in its healing power just as I believe in the destruction it could cause to all parties.

I could go on and on about vengeance and how I think it could be legitimate, as well as when I think it went to an uncontrollable extreme, but I’m not sure I’d come up with something any more brilliant than all the things that’s been previously written. Just take my word for it, revenge is a very strong thing and it’s anything simple or marginal; it’s also the thought that came to mind as I started writing this.

Where do I begin, I’m sure a lot of those who read this know where it started, or at least are familiar enough. Nonetheless, I find it hard to write this coherently because if I do it will be too long for me to write and it might get more personal than I can afford, so it will just be bits and pieces, and I’ll leave it to your imagination to fill in the details.

I once told him I’d break him to pieces if he’d ever hurt me that way again. I looked him right in the eyes saying I’d destroy him and he’d see a side of me neither of us knew existed. I guess he knew me better then because he never believed; he hurt me anyway! When the time came for me to use everything I could possibly know against him, I just couldn’t. I am not saying I am a better person here, I am not; because I spent enough time thinking of how I could harm him, and there came times when I was very close to doing it, I just didn’t know if I had it in me to live with myself and whatever consequences there were to come.

Some time long after I got over my shock and my agony, I stumbled into a movie, Something’s Gotta Give. At the end, when Jack Nicholson goes all the way to Paris to win Diane Keaton back, only he finds her there with Keanu Reeves (EWWWW). There is that moment where they’re singing her happy birthday and she’s laughing so happily in Keanu’s arms (EWWWW again), and you can see the way Nicholson looking at her an you can almost hear him thinking “that should have been me holding her”. That was when I decided that the only revenge I could get without being a horrible person was to see that very same look on his face. I wanted him to see me living happily, enjoying the life he can no longer share with me.

I forced myself to move on and be stronger just to have that moment. I glorified the feeling I’d get and used it as a motive to get myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. I can’t deny that I have a relationship phobia or that I have so little faith in love. I can’t deny that in the process of moving on, I almost stumbled and fell, and that I still look back and wonder what the hell happened back there. I always end up shaking my head and saying it didn’t matter; I was never ready and it was never meant to be. Little by little, it started to be less about my revenge moment and more about just getting by day after the other.

Now, that we’re on talking basis again, I see him quite often. He very occasionally hints that he still wants me back and that I’m better off with him than with anybody to the extent that I find it insulting because WOW, if I’m better off with him then I’m really bound to misery! Seeing him, talking to him and having to communicate with him amicably for the boys’ sake, I realized I’m actually capable of being a bigger person, something I never thought I could do! It’s not that I am not that forgiving or that I am vindictive by nature; it’s just because I distinctively remember how hurt I was and how the idea of revenge helped me get back on my feet, or close enough.

Yesterday, I took a leap of growing up. I agreed (without much argument) to have the kids visit his grandma before her surgery. I did that knowing there will be all sorts of people I dislike there. I wasn’t that pleasant except to the one person in his family that’s been decent to me, and the sick person to whom I couldn’t really afford beingharsh, given her age and her health status despite how much I dislike her. I could clearly see how embarrassed he was when his kids didn’t know his own immediate family and were too intimidated to let go of my hands, I actually felt sorry for him and kneeled on my knees as I tried to soothe the boys and tell them to go say hi to people I don’t even like. I don’t know, I really surprise myself at times.

Today, I had that moment I had almost forgotten that I once wanted! I just did a while ago. It wasn’t face to face, and I didn’t have a Keanu to hold me (THANK GOD), only I didn’t think it brought as much comfort as I once thought it would.

He apologized, he acknowledged his faults and he said I was never the bad person he worked so hard to make it sound like.

He said he was lonely and with all that money could buy him, he couldn’t find someone who loved him the way he knew I once did.

He said he was miserable, and it was eating him up that he can no longer see that love in my eyes, and that the best he could hope for was indifference.

He said he found some of my last journals from before I left, and that he read how I gradually lost hope in him, and he couldn’t believe he had become that person he himself detested as he read on.

I wanted to stop him because it sounded too sincere and I didn’t want him to put himself out there when I knew I was going to reject him at the end of his speech. Only he wouldn’t let me, he said his apology was due and it was hard enough for him to apologize so I should just let him.

Why didn’t I feel the warmth and fuzziness I promised myself all those two years? Why did I not smile contently that he’s sorry and suffering? Why did I not find solace in his misery and regret?

I have two theories; it’s either because I have more damage than him only it wasn’t my own doing like it is in his case, or because I have taken my time healing on my own, I no longer need any revenge from him. I don’t think it’s either, at least not exclusively.

Either way, his apology didn’t bring that much of a victory I long anticipated! In the contrary, it brought confusion because as he spoke of good things we once shared, I found my mind drifting to the horrible things that happened and took all the good away. He spoke of memories that were no longer so vivid and it confused me even more to be caught between resentment and sympathy for the same person.

I really wish we could write the words “The End” now, and that we can manage to be good to each other outside the marriage just for the sake of the kids. He still says it’s too hard for him to let me go, but I would like to think he would after all is clear enough to him. He thinks I might change my mind given time, but he doesn’t get that the more time I spend with him, the more I realize we were not a good match like I once thought and that there is nothing in the world that would make me repeat the mistake of choosing to be with him.

At the end of the day, I am glad and grateful I am not in his shoes and I do not have his burdens or his guilt. I realize that it is a blessing that I am not enjoying my revenge because it means that there is something in me he couldn’t change. Did that make any sense?

Party Pooper

Today I was out with a friend having fun, pure absolute fun after such a disturbingly annoying day with the x checking out schools. I got my end-of-the-week treat; I was sitting in a chair listening to all my favorite oldies brilliantly performed. Some of the songs brought back memories to which I am nostalgic, I closed my eyes and smiled as I put those memories back to where they belong. My whole body was moving with the same rhythm as the music, I sang along at the top of my voice and no one could hear (luckily), I clapped and cheered so loud until my hands hurt and my voice faded! I was genuinely happy.

My friend and I left so that we can go home before we get in trouble, which is sad since we’re both above 25, VERY SAD. Nonetheless, we both found solace in knowing that we had a real good time and that for the hour we spent, neither of us had time to think of our crappy dramas and got to live a life we never really had anywhere beyond our dreams, fair enough, or so we contently compromised.

Until that call!

“Enty fein le7ad delwa2ty? Enty 3arfa el sa3a kam? Da kalam?” and BAAAMM hung up!

Seriously, this is unfair!! I will turn 28 in June, and it wasn’t even 10 yet!!! 10 people!

And my mood was dramatically changed, in those few seconds it took to end that call, how sad is that, how depressing!

I felt like crying. My good mood was snatched from me so abruptly, the sudden switch of moods had a shocking effect that made me wanna curl and cry.

How cruel, how insensitive!

I really needed that evening out; it’s been a while since I went out on a music night and I reeeaaallllly needed the feeling I get after those. The music just makes me forget all about my problems and my issues and I heal for as long as I’m listening, and I know I can willingly go back to my daily fights and struggles without complaining knowing that I lived those few moments. Why is it too much to ask? Is that so horrible?!

I know it’s useless to try and explain that to my caller, or the person who had him make the call. I know it will be a waste of my breath because even if I managed to get my point through, they will still find ways to make me seem irresponsible and selfish and whatever other labels they will feel like using. So as always, the silent treatment is the way to go; long live passive aggression!

Now that I’ve ranted, I will go to bed trying to remember the thoughts and feelings I had as the music was playing and just dwell in them hoping they’ll visit me in my dreams more vividly.

Goodnight.

2008 Contemplations!

I am usually not the person who does that kind of end of year contemplations, and I am definitely do not do New Year’s resolutions either. However, everyone I know (and even those I don’t) seem to be taking the time to give 2008 a general overview!

It’s sad though how a lot of people keep counting the misfortunes that happened in the ending year. I mean, come on, there must be some good stuff that happened; otherwise, it would feel like a whole year has been completely wasted!

My friend told me it’s almost impossible to find anything good that happened in 2008 globally! I won’t try to prove her wrong; I’m too tired to do exhaust my brain cells. Instead, I decided to figure out the good things that happened to me in 2008.

It took me a rather long tour on my blog reviewing the posts I wrote since January! I rather find myself feeling the same about this year like I felt about August!

Anyways, I will be more specific about things that happened through the year which I consider positive…

I made new friends, I’m really grateful!

I managed to make more personal space for myself; I went to the movies a few times and been to a couple of music concerts, which is a big deal to a single mom!

I had two reunions with childhood friends; one in Jan, a 5-day trip to Luxor & Aswan, and the other in Aug, a 4-day trip all through the North Coast (Cairo, Alex, Matrouh, North Coast, Cairo)!! It was great meeting up with those guys again; I hope it happens again soon.

Kept my job for more than a year now with continuous positive feedback (aside from my daily morning tardiness :$). Managed two banquets for companies within the same field, and made good contacts with people from our Head Office, can’t complain at all!

Decided to start the D Blog as my way of giving something positive back, and this blog has earned me two precious friends (I know, it should fall into the friends category on top)!

I floated! (that was one hell of an accomplishment!!)

Went to Art Therapy and enjoyed it!

Had a kickass virtual birthday, and had dinner on the same day with my two best friends D & H :)

Caught up with M during his brief visit to Egypt and managed to have the most interesting conversations with him!

Became an auntie to two cuties; H’s baby boy on Oct13 and D’s baby boy on Oct18, two Libra boys! May God bless them and grant their mommies the patience to handle their Libra quirkiness!

Finally, through all the above, I have come to know a lot more about myself and my capabilities, I set a few rules for myself to live by and lived up to most of which, and I somehow managed to accept a lot of things that I never thought I would find it in me to deal with!

Alhamdulilah, I am grateful for all that. I can feel a slight bitter aftertaste because of all the other bad things that happened through the year, but I am willing to let go of it. This is why tomorrow; I am taking the day off so that my friend (and blog partner) and I would get the chance to bid this year farewell by sealing it with one good day at any cost!

Year 2008, farewell, thanks for all the laughs, really!

In my darkest hour…

I don’t believe in regret; to me, it simply does not fix things, it just makes one feel worse about things that are most likely too late to change. However, there are always times when I wonder “what if..??”; I always find it intriguing to think, like it’s my own mental exercise.

Since all my drama began, I would have those thoughts from time to time:

What if I never befriended him?

What if I never believed his lies when I first called it off?

What if I walked out when it got complicated?

What if I called off the marriage like I wanted to when it kept getting complicated?

What if I never agreed to move in with his family after his father died?

What if I never forgave him when he first screwed around?

What if I had decided to stay?

I have a could-have-been answer to each of those, but I really have peace with what really happened versus what could have happened.

But in my darkest hour, one very persisting thought haunts me… what if I never had kids with him?

Every time I find myself asking that question, I realize I’m hitting rock bottom. Don’t get me wrong I love my children, they’re probably the only real thing in my life.

The thought starts creeping in by me thinking “had I not had children with him, I would have walked away for good and never had to look back or be forced to sit and have all those futile arguments”. After all, most of the time I seem to manage not to cross ways with those I don’t like.

Then, I feel horrible having those thoughts in my head, and as I start blaming myself, I hear the other voice justifying “but they deserve better than such messed up parents; and let’s face it, aside from their crazy father, you know you are far away from the perfect mom they deserve. You wouldn’t be wondering what if they were never there if you were a decent mother; but you too want the easy way out, perhaps you’re not much better than him”

What I hate the most is that the silly voices in my head are right; I am a lousy mother, the only thing that makes me a good parent is being compared to him.

Now, I should shake off the silly thoughts, and tell myself it will be over; that there are so many reasons behind it all, and that most of which must be good because my kids are two amazing, cute and innocent children who must not pay for the stupid choices I made. I should tell myself to get it together and stop wallowing in those dark thoughts and go try harder at being a better parent.

Well, if you can’t right now, then it’s ok, send Beem to the club with your parents, put Mocha to bed, and go eat away your bad mood with your friend.

Must get ice cream on my way home.

On guilt and forgiveness…

When I was little, I didn’t realize I had a good childhood because I had (and still have) so many issues with my parents. I still find it confusing whenever I think about it; no wonder I confuse myself all the time!

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My father was hard on me; he was always too strict because he thought it would make me a better person. He had ethics and principles that he practiced most of the time, except when anger got the best of him. The man who taught me that words once said, cannot be taken back, was the very same person who'd shoot words at me and make me spend so many sleepless nights crying before we'd start giving each other the silent treatment!

It could have been about feeling guilty, or simply because we were not ready to communicate, but we could go on not speaking to one another for as long as it took! One look at his face could tell how much more angry words he would be holding back and one look at mine could say how I thought I'd never forgive him. Truth is, I guess it mostly hurt because I knew I couldn't love him any less.

My father taught me a lot without knowing. He taught me to hold back my anger when I know I can't handle the consequences of letting it out. He taught me that we can get badly hurt by those we love, but it hurts even more when we know we can't do but forgive them because we can't imagine our lives without them. But most importantly, he taught me that forgiveness does not come with begging for it; I never begged for his, and he never begged for mine, but somehow we seem to be doing just great!

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My mother on the other hand never had my father's strong character or presence. She tried to use his authority for her benefit, but it never served her the way she hoped for; in fact, it made her look less powerful! My only way of getting over my mother's hurtful words is by talking back to her face and confronting her with whatever nonsense she spoke; my logic had always beaten hers. I have always tried to use silent treatment out of my guilt for talking back at her, but she just never let me; she always said I had a cruel heart because of that!

My mother taught me that sometimes fighting back, as frustrating as it can be, helps you get over such fights. Sometimes it just helps to know you gave as much as you took, or not; after all, my mom and I are never on good terms for a long time.

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My x was a lot like my mother; he’d shoot heartless words like there was no tomorrow, while I was more like my father, I’d keep piling up and strictly watch out for whatever words coming out of my mouth. Moreover, I barely ever snapped like my father; not just because I didn’t want to return the hurt, but also because I never wanted to beg for his forgiveness like he begged for mine.

He always said I was too proud and unforgiving. He just never got it; he was the one person with whom I was not that proud and he never had to beg for my forgiveness! Ironically, he always begged for it and it made him feel less proud, so he thought I was too proud to forgive him!

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I always thought I was unforgiving. It took me quite some time to realize that I actually have it in me to forgive. Sometimes all it took was knowing that no malice was intended, sometimes it was because I could return the harm and get even, and sometimes it just happened because I was given enough time and space.

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I’m sorry, I don’t have it in me yet. I am not angry like I once was, and neither am I hurt; I just remember too many things that I know you’re not sorry for, or at least not the way you should be, and that means you’re still the kind of person I can’t forgive.

I have moved on, and even evolved a bit... I don’t hate you, and I obviously can stand you, but I lost that magic that made you seem flawless to me and I honestly do not want it back.

Why can’t we just write “The End” here?

Why do you keep pushing? You’re confusing me, you’re trying to make me feel guilty, but what you do not get is that all your tactics will never make me want back; being away from you is the one certainty on which I am rebuilding my life, and it’s not about forgiveness, so please stop begging for it.

I’ve come a long way, and I like it here

"You've come a long way" That’s what two of my friends whom I’ve got to know through this blog have told me when they last heard about my last encounters with the x. They said they were proud, and hearing that from two people who have not even gotten to see how it was when I first started, I couldn’t help but feel much prouder.

That’s the thought that came to mind as he kept calling.

Flashbacks of me crying nonstop since it all started, memories of utter confusion and self-doubt. Small details that haunted me and took away my peace, I remember them all! Not as painfully clear as I thought I would always do; they don’t bring as much pain, almost none, but they are quite the reminder of what I’ve been through.

Like the few hours before my c-section… and before that, the long drives with my pregnant belly and tears blinding me. Like the stitches that kept coming off post surgery from all the weeping and sobbing. Like the public humiliation caused by all the lies and the insults. Like his girlfriend walking towards me and rubbing it in and the dentists who used such information to harass me… millions of small details that caused so much turbulence and led me to believe I could never bounce back.

So I guess yes, I never thought I would reach indifference. I spent too many hours wishing for revenge and hoping I’d see him painfully regretting all of it. My ego visualized scenarios of him asking to have me back and me harshly rejecting him and hurting him twice as much as he hurt me. There were times I even motivated myself to move on by imagining the negative impact it would have on him to see me taking control of my own life without him. Until recently, I would occasionally wish him terrible things when it gets too annoying for my taste, and then I’d silently blame myself and shake off the negative feelings or write about it when it was too much to be shaken.

Until he actually asked me to return to him, I did not realize it would mean NOTHING to me the way it did! My ego did not even gloat about it; it seemed to shake its non-existing head without the least signs of interest, who knew! I found myself smiling to myself, for indifference felt much better to me than any possible revenge I could possibly plot or hope for! I am grateful that way.

So no, you don’t have any hold on me whatsoever, and it feels liberating to really know that you can’t get to me like you once did. It’s not fulfilling that you keep asking me to reconsider, it’s rather discomforting because it makes me worry my continuous rejection will make you react violently. Men do not take rejection well, something about male ego… and let’s put it this way, you’re not the sanest of men, not even close.

When you keep asking dull questions that should give you hints on my so called romantic life, you make me wanna laugh! You wouldn’t understand, all those who smile at me like they know better do not get it either. My romantic self is brain-dead, she’s on life support and I am too afraid to declare it, but I know she would not wake up, and I am completely ok with it; it makes me feel safe that way.

And no, I don’t want a divorce so that I can get married, I dread marriage now, not just because of the horrible experience or the lessons I learned in the process, but also because I know I would lose my kids to you, something I can never live with… but would you know about that!

Stop trying to talk me into being with you, stop trying to talk me out of divorce. There is no chance in hell I would reconsider. Had you known me better, you’d know I would not compromise on that one; that’s what happens when you marry solely for love, you have no reason to stay once that love is beaten out of you :)

Let me enjoy my peace, and go look for yours elsewhere for I have none to offer you.

I’m growing up!

My x called today. It was his first call since his aunt visited on Wednesday. She has noticed how I kept asking Beem about random words and their meaning in French as he talked; my own way of helping him practice what he learns at the nursery. She asked if I planned to put him in French schooling and I said it was my first option. She paused for a while and said “would you please involve their father in the process; he has financial obligations to which he should attend”. I nodded and that was the end of that conversation.

Today he called to say so many incoherent nonsense, most of which discussing his own perception of people who go through French schooling. According to him, they are fed too much culture, which in turn affects their perception of life, making them unable to deal with life from a practical point of view. He believes men his age who had received French education lack the macho factor and are rather nerdy with a touch of “nadala”! He is convinced that French education would limit my kids’ options upon graduation to “guys who speak fluent French but know nothing more about their jobs”!

For thirty whole minutes, I endured his shallow, arrogant, and condescending crap about men and women of our age category who happened to receive French education! For thirty whole minutes, all I wanted to tell him was that his skewed and distorted perceptions do not by any chance validate his weak theories. I wanted to tell him that if all the men and women he knows and judges so harshly are truly as bad as he described, then the one more thing they have in common other than their education would be him! I wanted to tell him that he’s not a better example to judge others, that his “athletic body” and “good looks” mean nothing at all when compared to his shallow personality and pseudo intellect that he uses to come off as a sophisticate!

Months ago, I would have gotten very angry and started yelling to the extent that I would have probably cried! Today, I just got upset, and I managed to change the mood by calling a friend of mine and laughing it off with her! Later, I talked to another friend about my fears of messing up my kids’ lives by not wanting them to be like their dad to the extent that I would turn them into an unhealthy extreme. Now, as I started writing this post, I was planning to write down the conversation and how it went, but to my surprise, I couldn’t even remember most of his exact words that got on my nerves!

Looks like I have finally learnt how to block the useless and unnecessary things that negatively alter my mood! All I remember of those thirty minutes is that he did not make sense and that his logic kept contradicting with itself making it rather funny to hear him babble on until I finally lost interest! Who knew!!!

to losing…

Around a couple of months ago, I started feeling like I was losing something. The concept felt rather confusing because I was convinced that the “loss” was not even mine to lose! I was not sure why it was being lost, and I was not even sure if I really wanted it to begin with! And even now, I don't have such answers.

Elizabeth Bishop’s “One Art” kept coming to mind and haunting me. I had strong urges to just post the poem on my blog as an acknowledgement of my “loss”, only a little voice in me kept arguing that there was no real loss, and that if there really was any, it has not yet been lost! Thanks to my short attention span and my wide range of commitments, I ended up forgetting about the whole thing.

In rare moments, I thought of that “loss” and it kinda made me blue because I never really understood why I even considered it much of a loss. Anyways, earlier this month, while talking to a friend, I realized that whatever my “loss” was, I was ok with the term and more importantly, I was ok with the fact that it was no longer there. I found myself accepting and moving on, and it felt good.

Today, something very small and insignificant happened that reminded me of all that. As minor as it was, it was a sign that accepting and moving on were the right things to do and that losing things is not always that bad, even if it feels that way at some point. And in that spirit, I decided to post the poem from my new perspective.

To losing…

One Art
By Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

---Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

“esloobek howa el sabab”

He called to complain that my dad told his aunt that my kids will not be seeing his grandma because she’s a liar. He used his fake polite tone and he actually called me “7adretek” as. He claimed that he’s always refrained from offending me or my family. “mashy, ok” I kept thinking to myself, “let him say all he has to say as long as he’s at least pretending to be polite”, I let him go on and on, then came the moment where I had to ask.

I am too proud to ask I have to admit. A lot of those who know me (and not even that well) might have noticed that I usually refrain from asking too many questions; it’s partially because I was taught that it’s rude to be nosey, but mostly because I am too proud to come off as nosey. I was too proud to ask him what went wrong because I did not want him to sense my insecurity, it was too much victory for me to give him. Alas, I came to swallow my pride as I went on…

Me: olt khalas kol elly 3andak?
Him: aiwa, shokran ennek radeety
Me: momken ba2a as2alak so2al?
Him: etfadaly ya (my name)
Me: *hesitating one last time* I know it’s weird to ask right now, but indulge me, what made you first drift away?
Him: *very cautiously trying to figure out where the catch is* what do u mean drift away, mesh fahem el so2al?
Me: ya3ne before I got preg with Beem, we seemed fine, then by the time I was halfway through my pregnancy, you decided to have a girlfriend, I believe that was our fall, you kept lying to hide it and I kept finding out more about your lies, until I lost my trust in you, then you were in an affair during my pregnancy with Mocha, and you know the rest, so what caused it from the very beginning, three years ago?
Him: enty sa2alteeny abl keda zaman…
Me: yes, I remember, and you said it was because I did not cook enough and that the house used to get too messy with me being pregnant and lazy... ana fakra!
Him: we sa3etha ettarya2ty 3alaya we 2olteeely we ya tara heya tabakhetlak wala wadabetlak el beet?
Me: If I asked because I wanted to be rude and sarcastic, I would have said a lot more than that right now, but it’s not why I’m asking, so bear with me, and make it specific, an incident, something in particular that I’ve said or done! And you can also be very brief, I’m driving!
Him: ya (my name) enty esloobek mostafez… mafeesh ay ragel yesta7mel enno ye7es en merato mesh tay2alo kelma…
Me: ana batkalem 3ala abl ma eslooby became an issue!
Him: enty tool 3omrek keda, esloobek dayman ye7ases el wa7ed eno la yo7tamal we enno mommel
Me: (don’t argue, don’t argue, don’t argue… he’s expecting you to argue, he’s even asking for it, DON’T ARGUE!) OK
Him: huh?
Me: ok, thanks for answering my question
Him: ya (my name) ahoh da elly beydaye2, lessa zay manty
Me: I asked you from the beginning to be specific and brief, so don’t expect a long conversation out of this question and answer!!
Him: fe 7ad yetkalem keda?!!
Me: ma3lesh ya (his name), ana eslooby keda, always been apparently!! And since I have not changed all that time, I don’t think I should bother changing now, at least not for you, so thank you very much for answering my question, 3ayez 7aga tanya?
Him: law sama7ty, madam bakalemek, kalemeeny zay ma bakallemek…
Me: here is the thing ya (his name), ana mesh 3ayza akallemak! Momken law sama7t ne2fel!
Him: ok ya (my name) rabena yehdeeky
Me: ameen ya rab
Him: kol sana wenty wel 3eyal be kheir
Me: shokran
Him: esmaha wenta tayeb
Me: whatever!

Just thought I’d write it down for the sake of reference. Let it be known, I am a person with attitude, surprise!!

This is what it came down to, eslooby zeft! I won’t even dignify any of it by explaining or justifying where it came from, I’ll just leave it at that. So this is where it ends, it’s not worth dwelling in it any further.

I’ll go now and sink my bitterness over my wasted years in songs that go with the mood.