This is an attempt to overcome the current writing block I’m suffering.

It’s becoming an obsession, or maybe it’s just the outcome of an intense dose of insecurity lately (which is pathetic I know), but one tend to have some strange cravings; silence, on top of which, and not just your late at night silence, or early in the morning calm, but something .. idyllic .. paradise like, where you can enjoy the presence of certain things .. and .. people .. their air .. and .. aura .. maybe. I don’t know.

I’m wrestling with words. It’s an immensely annoying feeling to have it in you to say so much, but you get stuck in that nook called ‘out loud’. You need someone to listen, you terribly need them to .. but you don’t know what to say, or how to say it .. it’s just .. very complicated. You’re rendered wrinkled and wrung .. so huggable. You pretend to be strong, and ready to bear your own burdens, and sometimes, you drink your own potion by helping others, listening to them .. making them laugh .. and smile tearfully. Sometimes .. you wind up giving away your own cravings to others, just so you could feel the joy .. the satisfaction that what you’re hoping for .. is real .. doable .. earthly. And not so unreachable .. as your own heart might be sometimes.

Am I making any sense? Humph ..

On Wednesday, I woke up too early for my peace of mind. I was having trouble replaying this Saturday in my life reel, because I was still hurting, so I skipped it this week and decided to wedge my errand inside a work day and see how it goes. And see how I’ll do.

I’m not sure anymore of myself.

But my errand went by safely. My taxi driver tried to repeat our latest painful conversation but I kept nodding with my earphones on, playing the loudest music. FYI, you don’t want to know how my mood affected my music. I’m listening to weird stuff. Think: eeew!

Then what are bigger sisters for ya Tu7fa! – a very dear friend after I thanked her for listening to my babble.

Lemme tell you something I learned about myself recently, and not that I’m being boastful, but I found out that I innately care about people, as in, complete strangers. When I’m taking a cab back home from one of my pestering customer visits, I always have this din in my head: should I tell him about the extra block away from the main road, or will he get grumpy? It’s a very silent and quick frustration that doesn’t last seconds before my cynicism. But .. it always comes first. I have it in me to think of others first, by instinct – the waiter, the customer service agent, the shop girl .. etc.

So, on Wednesday, I was waiting by the sidewalk in the cold morning, huddled inside one of my sleeveless parkas, doomed somehow by the respective errand, trying but sadly failing to warm my hands in my pockets. My laptop was strapped to my shoulder, sucking the freedom out of me, under a heavy cloak of clouds. And then, out of the blue, I saw this slender girl .. veiled in all color of Spring, inside a brown sweater and a long skirt on a pair of silver ballets. She was so cold her pale face showed, her gait was startled; back and forth, glancing her watch every now and then. I guess she was rather late for her lecture. In a weird sort, I felt really touched and sympathetic.

And no, not because she’s one of those who couldn’t afford my kind of ride. I wasn’t patronizing her. As much as selfish I’d sound, I found she utterly beautiful in every sense of the word. Every sense. I kept watching .. dew on morning flowers couldn’t have possibly engrossed me more. It was silent, her tenuous arms waving for the passing buses,  her neck craning helplessly ..  and when she couldn’t locate a spot .. she shrank her delicate shoulders in despair, sending me straight to heaven.

Why would I do this? and what’s exactly awing that much?

.. and don’t worry about breaking her heart, because it is more likely that you will get your heart broken – another dear friend.

I never gave much thought to how I’d feel if something goes wrong inside a relationship. All I was focusing on was how she would feel. It struck me how it clicks on the same cord that reverberates with that cab driver, or against my first step mom when I used to get all defensive to protect my sisters and not my own self, how I get maddened at the ones I care for because their reckless tendencies at times, or how the scene of someone helpless starts my meltdown.

Or, more importantly, why I never cried after my mother passed away! I remember quite well how tight I held unto my resolve for the sake of those around me, how I chose to smile and clam it all in, and how the deluge of compliments heading my way, praising my strength and patience, made things way worse .. and hopeless. It was thoroughly stupid.

Enough with my ramblings.

But it has its little pleasures ya Ibraheem :) This is what makes us sane… it has its rusty stuff, and shiny stuff – yet another dear Friend.

I considered seeking professional help, because I much needed someone with the ability to put the crap falling all around me in concrete scientific terms, and then give me standard solutions .. but no .. I don’t think I need therapy as much as I need to be on terms with myself.

I am different, as in really different. It was very stupid of me to deny this fact, or take it lightly along the years. It has its own share of suffering, because believe it or not, life shuns you away by default, unless you stand out by yourself. And what pricks others, stabs you. What hurts them, destroys you. What brings their salvation, renders you aflutter.

All my attempts at subterfuge were total failures – false pretenses. Whatever I chose as a cloak; cynical, egotistic, indifferent .. or whatever, was all faux. I never was this way, and I think I never will be. I took it after my Mom and Dad I guess .. in our family, we’re the ones who care, not the ones cared for.

You see, back in KSA ..

To be continued,