[84/365] Invisible Shackles

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My mum asks me few times a day (religiously, without missing any chance) “what’s wrong with you?”, I always make up an answer, and it’s always related to my illness. I lie, because I don’t know what else to tell her. She can’t seem to grasp the fact that I’m depressed.

Finally, I got sick of this question and I told her that it’s my regular face now. You think then she’d drop it, but no, she never does.

Thing my mum would never realize, not in a million years, that I’m stuck, I’m stuck in this life, I’m trapped in these consequences. I’ve always been tangled in others’ recklessness or choices, I’m haunted by things I can’t seem to get off my head.

I see people look happy, and I’m not sure, do they really feel that way? Would I ever feel the same way? Could my brain be easily fooled by what I might falsely inject? Should these traps let go of me?

I prayed a lot of salvation but since my prayers are not the answer, I don’t even dream about having it to stop, not anymore. I’m ok with having to suffer but would I ever be at least at peace within my agony?

Could I ever go on a single day sans my mum’s question? Would that be too much not to be reminded of the misfortune, not to mention, being forced to lie about it?

[83/365] Do I Look Sick?

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I hate it when I share stuff about my meds or illness, and all I get is sympathy, or someone who’s feeling sorry for me. I hate it that people don’t get what ‘invisible disability’ or ‘autoimmune’ means. I hate it when I have to victimize myself in order for people to understand that just because I look fine to you doesn’t mean I’m alright. I can’t be treated like a normal person or be expected to act like one.

The thing that people don’t know about me (and even those who do, tend to forget about it) that I hate attention, too. I hate being on the spotlight. I hate it when people mistake my reasons or misunderstand my motives.

That it’s too hard for me to share, yet I share anyway; to document the moment, to remember how it felt later on. I share to help those who need someone to understand, who supported and still support me when I need it the most. I share to spread awareness about my likes!

What do I have to do to make people realize that I’m not fishing for anyone’s sympathy, that I’m offended if a friend feels obliged to show “support” by commenting on my shared photo. How do I make them understand that it’s painful and patronizing.

But I’ll keep sharing anyway, I’ll persevere and keep fighting for those who suffer in silence, till I drop, it’s not like me to shut up about such things!

[82/365] My Life Vs. Social Media

If you know me, you’d know I’m not a very social person, but we, human, can’t exist without being social, that’s exactly when virtual life came in handy.

But lately I lost any interest, I don’t wanna share any stories of mine, I don’t wanna tell where I am, or what I do, I grew loathing the idea of the world knowing anything about me.

One day I was discussing social media with a Twitter acquaintance, we looked at it from many aspects. And I realized that most of the time I hate what people share, their need to be wide open for everyone to see. Why would I care if someone is sad, or bored, or what if I don’t wanna see their children, or know anything about their last trip? Why is it so important to know all about their political stances. And likewise why would anyone care if I do?
I mean, I’m a person who appreciates sharing info, articles, inspirations or music, I’m never selfish when it comes to sharing those kind of stuff, but how many people would really care about what I love to share, or find any of it interesting?

And let’s see the outcome, I eventually felt like I’m kind of invisible to people. I check my timeline and I found them offending me with their normal and usual discussions. It made me wonder, who are those people, why would they hurt me this much and why do I let them intrude my life this way…

Furthermore, why would I waste my day observing every single detail in everyone’s lives? I sometimes feel ashamed of getting THAT into people’s lives.

Social media is supposed to be a tool not an alternative for reality, and that’s what everyone keeps on forgetting.

Some people would argue that I shall control what I get exposed to, but what if I don’t want that? I honestly don’t think it’s worth the hassle, I also like how those kind of people would lead me to keep my distance off that trap!

But then again, I can’t wrap my head around the question, why would those people keep me in their circle if they don’t even care about the things I share? Why do I still keep them if they offended and hurt me unwillingly?

And then it dawned on me, that we’ve created that spectrum where we thought we’re choosing people we enjoyed to escape real life obligations, and those we feel forced on life.

But reality is, there is no escaping the BS. People would change, people would never really be picky and get away with it. Even if it’s all controllable, even if losing those people is one click away!

[81/365] Worlds Apart

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Looking in time at the current lives of those we left behind, in all cases, it leaves me in the weirdest state of awe!

Those who turned out to not be like they claimed to be..
I’m not saying they’re lying, they might not, they might not have known themselves quite well. They might have wished to be better, they might have actually changed. But eventually they weren’t supposed to last, they weren’t supposed to be in our lives to begin with. Going back, we think that knowing them at all was a sin, and yet we gave them pieces and portions of what they shouldn’t have.

Those who wronged us, left us drowning in a pond of tears and blood and went on to live happily ever after…
And we don’t know what we did to deserve this, and how can they get away with it. Makes us reconsider our own definitions, and doubt our actions and intentions. We wonder if we worth it, and if they were at all right. Makes us think of those who ended up with them, do they ever feel that they built their happiness on the misery of someone else? But then again, karma isn’t always instant, sometimes it takes time, sometimes it’s all kept for the after life.

But, do they ever know? And do we ever know?

And finally, those who can’t get their peace of mind..
Those who are like us falling in and out, and their life is a series of downs and downs. Those who are savoring from the same cup as we. They make us feel like we are all strayed souls who were starving for any kind of peace, and at a point in time we stumbled upon each others, and thought we found home. But it turned out they are not, according to the rules of meant-to-bes.

Makes me wonder, how do we always think of those places we can’t reach and territories we can’t claim, do we ever think about how many souls we have to drain before we can be as happy as those who ruined our lives?

[80/365] Wear and Tear

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Something changed in me — or better yet broke inside of me — and I can’t blame sickness for it. I can’t quite put my hands on the reasons, but I can sense the change. I can feel that I need a new trip to discover who I’ve turned into in these past couple of years.
I’ve been thrown from one life changing experience to the next, my life has been immensely flicking, although it’s more likely to seem sluggish. I go through something as one person and walk out as another, I can barely recognize myself, anymore.

And it’s not a bad thing in the essence, despite how I hate change and regardless of how hard I could let myself adapt to things but I happened to have a deal with myself, to accept and cherish the person who I become, come what may. And I’m not sure if it’s that being loyal to that deal or that I’m finally breaking the barriers of fear, or simply that I don’t care.

Maybe, I’m finally letting it be worse, or maybe I’m only coming off stronger and relentless.

The downside of this is that I got so used to losing that I no longer obsess about clinging to things. I no longer care to clinch anything with my hands, I don’t care if I owned, cause I’ll end up losing, anyway.

[79/365] An Open Letter to 20-Year-Olds

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For most people, nine years don’t really feel like a long time. Except for me, here and now, standing at the threshold of my 30s. After everything I’ve been through, it seems like I’ve just survived a World War, like I’ve just woken up from a coma to a completely different person.

And for that stranger I was nine years ago, I’m writing a letter that I think could benefit most bright-eyed and naive 20-year-olds.

Read more: An Open Letter to 20-Year-Olds http://scoopempire.com/letter-20-year-old-self/#ixzz32XEWvNPe
Follow us: @ScoopEmpire on Twitter | ScoopEmpire on Facebook

[78/365] A Letter to My Readers

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Dear reader,

So, I write about facts, about stuff I notice in my surroundings. I write about people, certain people, who are here and there. I write about lousy women, failing parents, men who happened to be jerks. I write about Egyptians, about people in different types of circles, I write about majorities.

I’m an angry person who writes cause she cares; I write cause I can’t take seeing any of this crap I’m seeing on daily basis, I’m writing cause I can’t change anything, I write as a way of objection.

But what I don’t do is generalize. I repeat, I never generalize!

So please, if you read any of my writings, and felt differently about them, you’re free to disagree with me all you want, criticize them all you want. But please save your breath whenever you feel like telling me that I can’t generalize, or how what you just read isn’t true.

Because how you reply says so much about you, when you’re defensive, it shows that you’re deeply in denial, you wanna bury your head in the sand and only see what you wanna see about “your Egypt”.

Did it ever occur to you that there are stuff you don’t see in your circle? That your life is a bit easier than the other person’s that you trying to diminish their agony. It’s like saying there are no slums cause you have none in your elite neighborhood, and that my friend, what I call ضيق الأفق.

Yours,

[77/365] 8 Unspoken Secrets of the Egyptian Society

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Take a look at Egyptian society. A traditional, conservative nation. Kind, funny, friendly people. Families that seem close and have a certain unshakable bond. Such a beautiful first impression, but this is just the surface.

Want to delve into the secret world that lies beyond that exterior?

Read on…

Read more: 8 Unspoken Secrets of the Egyptian Society http://scoopempire.com/8-unspoken-secrets-egyptian-society/#ixzz32KU6YDe4
Follow us: @ScoopEmpire on Twitter | ScoopEmpire on Facebook

[76/365] Fear

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Few things scared me in the past; they didn’t include death, or sickness, or heartache, and not loneliness. I could handle all that, but what really scared me (and still does), is the unknown, sudden major changes, being underestimated, and being a disappointment.

And somehow everything I’ve ever feared happened to me, and still happening!

It’s not like my fear prevents anything from happening, or that I plan for them to not happen — I barely plan my day to begin with. It’s just that I can’t take the consequences of such things, I get crippled whenever any of them decide to take place.

 

And generally my life never been a picnic, at any moment in time. It’s always been tough on me; series of worst case scenarios mixed with my worst nightmares implemented in real life. And I’m not sure why I had to be exceptionally talented in how unfortunate I can be.

And right now, I’ve been diagnosed with a chronic disease that no one could even detect, after surviving a huge emotional hurdle and a great depression (which I’m not even sure if I even recovered), and many other things I lost count, trying to remember. And I don’t know how to feel about all this, that I feel nothing. I loathed life a long time ago that the news of being sick didn’t make me flinch.

I sometimes think I’m feeling fine about being sick, for some reason physical pain is more bearable to me than emotional pain. Somehow I’d rather be crippled than depressed. At least people would sympathize with your pain rather than diminish how you’re might be feeling. At least I can forget how it feels for me not to be able to walk, two weeks after, but that time I was suicidal will never depart my memory, even though it happened two years ago.

I don’t know why all this is happening to me, and I have a weird feeling of relieve, that I got to explore life to that extent at this age, but at the same time I catch myself fearing what else could ever happen.

 

Because every time I think it can’t get any worse, it simply does!

[75/365] Message from the Grave

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I told my mum, she would bury me one day. And I proved her right. 

My anticipation about my death was so glaring, it wasn’t a secret that my life was sucked out of me by the day.

And I always wondered why do People connect youth with life? why would anyone seeing me across a room filled with people distinguish me as the merrier, the livelier, the healthier, the one with all the peace of mind. And when I start to argue otherwise, their judgment would always be “it will pass”, “it will go away.”  They reject our pain in order to feel relieved, in order to be able to live their lives fully. But it’s such a shame that it neither passes, nor goes away. As we, youth, half of us are dead and even those who are still alive are half dead.

I always wondered how people go from sad to mad, how they lose their minds trying to make sense of things, how they go from angry to dead, how they exhaust their every option until they exhaust themselves. and then I wondered how much It could take me before I go lunatic or hit the finish line.

How much bullshit, how much pressure, how much unfairness, how much effort, how much of myself I had to compromise in order for me to keep my sanity or my faith or my morals intact?

I might be flat on the ground now, but I haven’t died just today, I died a long time ago. With everything that ever happened to me. The collective of my misfortune that I tried my best to make peace with.

You see, this peace, it didn’t make my life easier, it just barely let me survive it. It made me accept more than my default capacity can take. but eventually my reality piled up and summoned the potential agony that I had to go through and this which existed in the retrospect forming a demon that scared me at night for as long as I can remember, it’s the demon that weighed on my existent until it ceased to exit.

Until there is nothing left to bury…

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