New Year's Party

Another year. Another party.

Anticipation. Fear. Worry.

Body hate, anxiety about friends failing me, of being raided and arrested. Of drugs not working as it should. Of not feeling a fleeting rapture.

What happened to the brighter side? Where is it? what made it so warped? So sinister and hidden?

Has trauma blinded me? Made me so disconnected from who I am?

They notice changes. I notice them too. I'm not the same, who could I remain the same? I'm harder, cynical and tired.

Would I leave the party bitter and confused? Being the smart one gets me nowhere. Being the sexy one works. Win them over by my brains? By my apparent morality? My genteelness? Oh what priceless bullshit.

My bullshit is so dear to me. I want it to become the norm. How can standing up for principles make you so hated? An outcast.

I'm just fooling myself. I want admiration and fame. I just have different tools. I'm using them for self promotion. The market is just so tough these days.

How long will I stay? How long will I let myself stay? Do I want to stay? What would I actually lose if I stay?

Does it only get darker from here? Guilt and bitterness ridden future ahead? What disaster this new year's eve bring?

I'll probably watch and burn.

The Cat

I will miss your beautiful face and your warm, unwilling hugs. It's funny what became of us. 

You used to anger me, annoy me. I pushed you and I was violent. I was questioning myself and surprised that I felt this cruelty towards you. How things changed!

I came to love you and care for you. I couldn't get enough of kissing and hugging you. I felt you're my daughter. How did I remove myself from your dying stage. How was I so cool? 

Your little young body was suffering. You made sounds I've never heard before.

I wake up to touch your body and life is gone. You look at me in your reclining pose. You say 

I was here, waiting for help and care. It never came. It was too late.

Another trauma knocks the door. It goes in without permission. How long are you staying? We never know. 

Tired

I need to draw a line. Where do I draw the line? I can't go on like this. I wanted to touch someone's life, now I can't get enough. Maybe I'm not getting validation.

I'll never be swept down by anyone or anything. so why do I expect to sweep away others?

It's not safe for me to go on like this. What could happen? Nervous breakdown, immunity breakdown, hair loss, weight gain, tense relationships, growing dissatisfaction, burnout, risky behavior, depressive episodes, etc.

I don’t want to know anything about Zeina. She's the embodiment of my nightmares. It's what makes me totally cease to exist.

I'm too hard on myself. I'm too unkind. I'm not supporting people around me. What the hell am I doing here?

I miss my sisters. My broken sisters. My teenage sisters. I don't think I'll get over the guilt. I wish I'd never get over it.

Mother, I want to tell you I love you but it's so hard. I'm afraid one of us would die before I do.

Am I still scared of death? Sometimes I wish it. I'm more scared of pain, torture, kidnaps and rape. I don't feel so dejected about death. I feel I'm concerned about the timing. As if I want to push it back until it's right time. No idea when that would come about.

Writing is therapeutic. Why don't I write often? It's writing stupid! Connect to myself more.

What is friendship? They're losing their meaning. It's always been my single most important activity of my life. To befriend, to understand. I don't feel you anymore, don't get you. Why are we still together?

I want out of here. I don’t know why, but I'm expected to want this. Should I just stay? I'm worried about my future if I stay. I'm worried about my future if I leave.

I'm afraid of earthquakes. Living on the 8^th floor doesn't help. Would my flatmate commit suicide? Will I be evicted soon? I want to have a house. I don’t want to live alone anymore.

I'm becoming a different person. Less radical. I'm growing old. I don’t want to live alone. I don’t mind dating. What's happening to me?

dream; alter ego

In this sha3bi dream, a man cross dressed into Amina alter ego and started performing her famous beshwesh 3alaya. The brother finds out and is enraged. He yells at her but then gives her a cigarette after she starts crying and she says I just wanted to have some fun.

In preparation for a wedding myself, I cross dress, transforming into a stunning Angham. I try to take a photo of myself but my mother keeps roaming around me and enters every room I go to. In the background, I see another Angham, a blonde one, and she's being photographed by Mona Eltahawy and my Moroccan. Interestingly, the photos I'm trying to take are much smaller than I'd like them to be.

I try to go the wedding but I had woken up late and it's only me and my mother in the house.

I end up talking to Sahloul in some space. He's trying to get me to touch his dick. I unabashed do but it's quite small. I jerk him off. He vanishes afterwards and I start to think of how afraid he is of his sexuality. I don’t know who saw us from this position. Ahmed Adel was around me but now he's gone. Did he see us and get angry? I go looking for him. I see him from a distance but when I get near it's somebody else.

I leave to the wedding. I'm walking on a weird fence. I see an old ugly and scary man haggling a family. He starts to chase me too. I throw things at him. There are more people who look like him. They're all after money. I start yelling back and showing that I don’t care about them and their ugly money collection.

rape

I think it will change my perception of penetration forever. It will no longer the initially unnerving, eventually pleasurable action.  It will come to mean submission and control. It will come to signal humiliation and contempt. My sexuality has changed because of it. Simply put, I'm more scared. I am more confident that it can happen again in the future. I would wonder if men who intimidate me want to rape me. I will look differently at consenting to being penetrated. I will realize how consent can be complicated. I will know the anxiety of disclosing the abuse I went through, and the fear of being blamed for what happened to me. I will not have to go through abortion, but I would have a better hint of the consequences.

I will always be surprised of how calm I was after it happened. I remember that I was mostly worried about my numbness. Did it mean I would collapse later? Did it mean I am resilient enough to handle it? I couldn't talk about it for long, until I finally disclosed, and it was a tremendous relief. I was mortified of my friends' reaction. Will they shout? Will they gasp in shock? I didn't want any of that. I just wanted understanding eyes looking at me and telling me "I stand by you".

Despite the fear and helpless, you come to know surviving and resilience. Part of you was taken away, but your strength wasn't. You're still here to venture more scary grounds on this earth. 

i want...

I want to talk to you. I want to spend more time with you. I want to pretend that eyes won't see us flirting with each other. I want to have sex with you without your boyfriend knowing. I want to have that coffee with you. I want to move to that rundown neighborhood and fuck all its men. I want to have you for myself. I want to lock you up. I want to be torn apart by you. I want to slap your bitch boyfriend. I want to inspire you and lead you. I want to argue endlessly. I want to change the world. I want to be important. I want to be respected. I want to own you. I want to be your role model. I want to be a hero. I want to be killed by you. I want you to annihilate me. I want to seek danger. I want to release my body. I want to be invaded and violated. I want to laugh from my heart. I want to banish you. I want to eat until death. I want my body to drive you crazy. I want to be penniless. I want to be rich. I want to grow my food. I want you to serve me for life. I want to be depressed. I want to stay in bed forever. I want to be forever young. I want to dance until I collapse. I want to be covered in sweat. I want to never shower. I want to watch you forever. I want to vanish. I want to read your mind. I want to see you naked. I want to be prude. I want to be wild. I want to weep. I want to save you. I want  you to save me. I want to understand. I want to take my time. I want to remember you. I want you to forget me. I want to begin where we'd left each other. I want to eat you. I want to watch you forever. I want to be your friend. I want to kiss you. I want to get over you. I want to overcome my fear. I want to be me. I want to be you. I want to touch your heart. I want to change your life. I want to be free of guilt. I want to love myself. I want to shelter you. I want to exercise my privilege. I want to see you randomly in the street. I want to start a conversation with you. I want to hold your hand. I want you to wink at me. I want to know if you're dead. I want to live forever. I want to collapse. I want to be different. I want to know myself. I want you to forgive me. I want to reveal myself. I want to see you in my dreams. I want to breathe you. I want you to worship me. I want to see you dance. I want to rest. I want to see your tears. I want you right my wrongs. I want to you to remember me. I want to read forever. I want to live many lives. I want to write my story. I want to listen to you. I want to be laid next to you. I want to drive you crazy. I want to relax. I want to have fun. I want to cry my heart out. 

Moving out and in

So what's wrong? Why am I not happy? Why is my colleague pathologizing me? What's the root of this disenchantment?

I moved. I should be relaxed and happy. Is it because the Syrians are all over town and it makes you think of their plight? Or is it because that beautiful Syrian boy liked girls? He may like boys too but would it be easy for him to date one? Or would he have time for it? Or he has to keep working to keep the family dignified?

Is it because those guys who live around Cairo University are too carefree and beautiful? It's already about a decade apart, is that what makes you bitter? You can't have what they have. It's too late, isn't it? They grew up here. They live here when they're 19. They were skinny pants and touch each other. 

I moved. I should be happy. I should have more time on my hands. I should bring whomever over. I should feel less rushed to go to work. I shouldn’t be waking up before the alarm goes off. I should be spending more time in my room. I should be having more quality times.

I am traveling, I should be excited. I should be content with where I got so far. Instead I'm tired and stressed. What would make happy then? What are the achievements for? What are the pains worth? When will be able to dance the revolution?

Exploring is what I do. Challenging is my middle name. Risking is what I know. What's the meaning? Where is the focus point? When is the release?