I surely don’t have anything to write about these days. My confusion is so voiceless and breathless. It’s stone. And those verses shatter this stone, into soft content, satisfaction and trust in Him.

He never really leaves you alone. Every time you think you’re not loved, remember Him. He loves you.

He loves you.

إِنَّ ٱلَّذِينَ يَتْلُونَ كِتَٰبَ ٱللَّهِ وَأَقَامُوا۟ ٱلصَّلَوٰةَ وَأَنفَقُوا۟ مِمَّا رَزَقْنَٰهُمْ سِرًّۭا وَعَلَانِيَةًۭ يَرْجُونَ تِجَٰرَةًۭ لَّن تَبُورَ

Verily, those who recite the Book of Allah (this Quran), and perform AsSalat (IqamatasSalat), and spend (in charity) out of what We have provided for them, secretly and openly, hope for a (sure) tradegain that will never perish.

لِيُوَفِّيَهُمْ أُجُورَهُمْ وَيَزِيدَهُم مِّن فَضْلِهِۦٓ ۚ إِنَّهُۥ غَفُورٌۭ شَكُورٌۭ

That He may pay them their wages in full, and give them (even) more, out of His Grace. Verily! He is OftForgiving, Most Ready to appreciate (good deeds and to recompense).

Fatir,

I miss .. talking to people. It’s like I need to have a good conversation with someone, and I don’t want it to be in politics or about this country. Also not about work, because I’m too swollen. I don’t remember the last time someone told me that I’m a good listener, I really miss that.

Sometimes I fantasize about popping up in strangers’ lives, leave a mark that would bring a smile to their faces whenever it sheds itself in their thoughts, and then leave remembered that way.

–

Do you ever think that our names really represent us? I mean, it’s weird. Lately, I see someone’s picture without knowing their name, and when I know their name, it’s like .. dejavu, like I already knew it. Yeah, that’s a Zeyad, aha, and that’s a Lobna! And you, with the wits, the olive tone and the guarded eyes, yeah .. it’s so true ..

–

I’m tired from saying that I’m tired. That loop is universal, you know. I need to hear someone laugh. Actually, peoples’ laughs as well are so unique. Someone’s name, someone’s laughs and someone’s tears are someone.

–

Don’t be too bold, disappointment always comes with that. Also, it steals my heart beats.

–

Sometimes you just know that God is using you for the benefit of someone else, and you forget that the very fact that He’s using you is one of the truest blessings.

Alhamdulilah .. Alhamdulilah .. Alhamdulilah ..

Sigh

Alhamdulilah ..

You unexpectedly land on a memory lodged in some devious corner, and boom: it explodes, and you’re strewn in pieces. You become a blur, a cloud of dust.

Funny thing is, you realize you didn’t really forget anything. You’d think you got over things, but the fact is, you never did. You take the blow – steady, breathless, your lips pursed in pain, holding back struggling screams. Something is turned off in you, and it’ll last for days, until the ruptures furl unto themselves again.

And you walk again down your memories one night, and boom.

Another memory.

With years, you’ll be surprised; because of all the off notes on that rhyme of agony, a smile in epilogue is the least expected, but oh well, it does come eventually.

Satisfaction seeps in that way ..

Alhamdulilah ..

It’s okay to miss a moment that everyone else enjoyed, it means your ones aren’t all around, yet. Wait. Patience. Do you not know of fate? do you not know of the horizons of its mercy? There will come a she whose wish come true, is her wish come you. Soon.

Being judged by you is different. It’s okay. The vagueness of you, swallows the anger in me. That moment, when you have shone on me, with that red hearted rose of mallow. That moment, my dear, was perfect.

You’re a drawer of smiles, and laughs. You’re entertainment. It’s vogue. Don’t be sad about it. They are comfortable around you. You’re safe, ibhog. You safe. You home.

Sometimes, life brings out the worst in people, but if you watch close enough, the worst in people is beautiful. You know why? because it’s the end of it. Once the worst is out, what’s left is their pure hearts, and their yearning to your embrace.

And sometimes, my love, life brings out the worst in you, and then it all wraps itself in you with a lesson learned in humility, and in wisdom. When guilt sheds itself around your deeds, when your conscience curls around your acts, that’s when you become great. Much of the good of this world is owed to the sins of its people, do know that.

Whether you’re close to Him or not, He’s always around protecting you.

Do know that too ..

—

I wish my words for you weren’t that broken. So instead, I’ll give you silence. I know you like it. I know you love the presence of me in your thoughts; an emblem of hope, a figment of a thousand dreams in one. A vision that’s all pauses .. I am.

For you ..

—

A message to you: one day, you’ll see that which I’ve always wanted (and needed) you to see. It seems hopeless now, as much as I wish for progress, somehow you dive in vanity. But I know, that the worst in people tows behind it the best in them. You’re reckless and neurotic, but I know, that deep down your heart, someone will light a candle one day. I just wish, then, that you’d remember my tears.

—

Imagine that we never knew the moon existed, and then we wake up to see it a perfect white. How will it feel? Now, imagine that each month, we forget it ever existed, and then the one night wake up to see it a perfect white, again?

Am I that usual for you now? Do I have to disappear, so that you’d miss me? So that you’d know my real worth? Am I already a crescent? or the shadows of your doubts finally had me? Whatever happens, I love you. You’re you, you know. You were never a choice. You were destiny, for my heart.

—

Complete love is that moment when the idea of them being away never even crosses your mind. In the details of your fabric, that idea for you is tantamount, in sense, to the sun rising from the west. If it takes place one day, then it’s the end of everything.

—

I count your hugs. I don’t know the figure, I just know that I count, and that each time I’m in your arms, I forget where I stopped, so I start all over again.

I’ll go find you now ..

وَٱضْرِبْ لَهُم مَّثَلَ ٱلْحَيَوٰةِ ٱلدُّنْيَا كَمَآءٍ أَنزَلْنَٰهُ مِنَ ٱلسَّمَآءِ فَٱخْتَلَطَ بِهِۦ نَبَاتُ ٱلْأَرْضِ فَأَصْبَحَ هَشِيمًۭا تَذْرُوهُ ٱلرِّيَٰحُ ۗ وَكَانَ ٱللَّهُ عَلَىٰ كُلِّ شَىْءٍۢ مُّقْتَدِرًا

In brief, what I want to say is, silence nowadays is a true challenge. A silent person ignores all people’s false judgments, and resorts to a calm corner to think before they act.

We miss this now; we have many actors, hundreds of them, but very few thinkers. Thinkers get judged for taking the time to think, and actors mess around and get called heroes.

Nations aren’t built this way.

I just want everyone to think about this: if a word you utter, or a rumor you spread, eventually contributed to the death of a human being (by forming a grudge that people couldn’t need less, by planting a lie, or by making a wrong impression, anything), then how can you live with yourself? You have to face the reality of what you’re doing, really, because it’s unbearable anymore. God will ask you about this, this is a fact; you WILL be asked about everything you utter or spread in these critical times.

So if you won’t add anything or if you can’t find the time to think properly, then kindly be silent. Believe me, it’s better.

Judging me won’t be useful either; because it’s not about me, at all.

It’s like anger and depression affects the way I deal with God; my energy is sucked dry by those two monsters and when I want to be with Him, I just can’t. Like I’m too tired and out of ways. My patience is sucked so thin by the brawny arms of sadness, and then thumped ruthlessly by the thick feet of anger.

I read stories about Prophets with lives that are formed of hardships; yet, they still managed to follow through, to deliver their message completely. They managed to worship God greatly. But, somehow, I feel like they were on terms with the difficulties they went through, like they knew their purpose in life is so fulfilling in ways it made them sleep well. They didn’t need to change something for the hardship to go, they just focused on the message.

When I look at myself, however, I feel like I’m doing something wrong. I sometimes feel it’s not patience as much as it’s weakness and surrender; that I should change, or at least seek a refuge somewhere, just to be able to worship God better.

Even if that somewhere is away from my own home. It makes me so sad. I don’t know if it’s a glitch with my mind, of if I really am going through things that I’m not supposed to go through.

You know, sometimes life isn’t supposed to be this hard. Sometimes one’s supposed to just change it. Look at the following verses  from Surat Al-Ankaboot.

The Surat starts this way:

أَحَسِبَ ٱلنَّاسُ أَن يُتْرَكُوٓا۟ أَن يَقُولُوٓا۟ ءَامَنَّا وَهُمْ لَا يُفْتَنُونَ

Do people think that they will be left alone because they say: “We believe,” and will not be tested?

وَلَقَدْ فَتَنَّا ٱلَّذِينَ مِن قَبْلِهِمْ ۖ فَلَيَعْلَمَنَّ ٱللَّهُ ٱلَّذِينَ صَدَقُوا۟ وَلَيَعْلَمَنَّ ٱلْكَٰذِبِينَ

And We indeed tested those who were before them. And Allah will certainly make (it) known (the truth of) those who are true, and will certainly make (it) known (the falsehood of) those who are liars, (although Allah knows all that before putting them to test).

And then, near the end, it tells believers:

يَٰعِبَادِىَ ٱلَّذِينَ ءَامَنُوٓا۟ إِنَّ أَرْضِى وَٰسِعَةٌۭ فَإِيَّٰىَ فَٱعْبُدُونِ

O My slaves who believe! Certainly, spacious is My earth. Therefore worship Me (Alone).”

See how great that book is?

So, dear readers, when do you decide that it’s not about patience, but rather about not accepting what irks you?

When does one decide that it’s time to just leave?

Reblogged from ibhog:

Take it from me: love has all the lasting permanence of a rainbow – beautiful while it’s there, and just as likely to have disappeared by the time you blink. … The zebras are the first stop in the Roger Williams Zoo. Of all the animals in the Africa section, these have always been my favorite. I can give or take elephants; I never can find the cheetah – but the zebras captivate me. They would be one of the few things that would fit if we were lucky enough to live in a black and white world. Jodi Picoult …

I’m trying the new ‘Reblog’ feature of wordpress. And, well, I love those quotes.

And, well, A who’s like the brother I never had, sent me this in a facebook message:

“Overthinking ruins you. Ruins the situation, turns things around, makes you worry, and just makes things worse than they actually are.”

..

I’m trying my best ..

I haven’t written for the HBBC for a while now. Our dear blogger Nema sent us an email to cheer us on again, because with what the country is going through and, I don’t know about the rest but with what I’ve personally been going through, we stopped writing. If you’re in Egypt, you’ll know what this means: for a single night to make the lives of millions go on the cruelest pause ever.

Me and guilt are a life long story. In addition to being subjected to that bittersweet emotion for years, I also have that whim in my character to blame myself first. I’m very harsh on myself, you no have any idea. It has its perks though, of which are overflowing kindness, or to put in its real context: too much kindness – the type of kindness that makes you change yourself for others’ sake. It’s not kindness this way anymore, is it? It’s more of insecurity I guess.

So that’s the story of he who couldn’t fit in and thought standing out is a good resolution. To be quite honest, it’s a powerful sedative. To stand out but only for a while. To leave a mark that leaves you undone. To kiss someone with a laugh from their heart that they remember you with but only rarely. To be successful, but just for one time.

Imagine thirst rescued with some drops of water that quench it only a little, so that it regains strength again and hurt its sufferer. And then some other drops of water come a long and contribute to the misery, while all along those beautiful droplets think what they did was be there. Be helpful and, supportive.

Watch this video:

Sometimes all what one wants is for someone to take the words out of one’s chest. Us writers do that to them readers, and us writers struggle that with ourselves. Such a sad fact.

So yeah. I have that guilty pleasure: to leave a mark that makes me feel better. To make someone smile. Or to make them tear all touched and cozy and warm. To sweep someone off their feet maybe, or to be the subject of their awe and admiration? I love introductions; I’m always infatuated with how people perceive new and interesting, I’ve always managed to strike that image in introductions. I can’t quite remember when exactly have I not been interesting; but, well, like I said – they’re drops of water that last for only a little while. I rarely stay interesting. Maybe because I really stop being so, because what I liked the most was the introduction itself taking place; the smiling expectant face, the predictable smile, the blushed excitement, the shifted face features to a sigh, a wordless story, or maybe the dream of a hug. God how well I read people ..

I dream of capturing those moments. The unsaid versions of them strangle me. And then the guilt coats it all. Because, at the end of the day, what I’ve been touching and making happy, whom I’ve been nice to .. are human beings! With expectations and feelings, they want things that are constant and perceptible; understandable, dependable, maybe?

And I’m not that. I’m just a scene in a movie that has no beginning nor end. I’m a soundtrack that’s beautiful in a segue or two. If you have me on repeat, I’ll make it all worthwhile, but reality me? No.

That’s why I cave. I can’t keep up with what I want to be for people.

I’m not sure I made any sense with my quite fictional rambling. Wouldn’t this be funny? if I were fictional all along? or no, if I turned out to be fictional .. without even knowing it. Ask me about fictional characters. It’s a mess.

I go to God, because He gets me. He’s the only one who does.

May you all laugh forever, you guys.

Night,