Lost - Selfishness



Lonely Bench - By: Ragesoss

Even though I wanted to remain a child as long as possible, I, finally, grew up to be a teenager.

I still remember what kind of a girl I was - a girl who loves everything,  hates everyone except her friends.

My friends meant everyone for me. As long as I have them, I wouldn't need anyone else.

I would do anything for them. I would never be lonely again.

So, can you imagine how sad I was, when I lost my only best friend?

I call it "my first experience with selfish people"!

The Beginning - My Mother

Mom's Favorites: Galaxy bar, French Macarons, Bounty and KitKat bars, and Rose Madeleines

As I promised, I am trying to post some pieces of my diaries.

The first one is my beloved seven-year-old. It introduced me to writing, if I remember correctly.

To me, it means everything - to start, stay firm, aim for the stars, thank, and love.

Reading this gives me a feeling of innocence -  a feeling of childhood.

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My Mother...

The most gentle word I can ever say. The most beautiful feeling my heart can describe.

Like a garden of love, or a sea of purity. She is the gift of God, and the giver of kindness.

The best person ever stepped on earth - Prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him,  advised us to take care of her.

A Blooming Flower..

Breezes of freedom starts blowing..

The dark night starts to fade.. The light struggles to embrace the horizon..

The hope is shining..

The dream is blooming..

And I step forward, toward my goals.

Where the Preparatory Year ends, my life begins!

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Sorry Agatha Christie. "Endless Night" doesn't exist.

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The shadows of my dream are being colored. Just like when the sunlight breaks into my dark room, my dream is trying gradually to sneak into my life.

I can see it clearly - My dream is not only a dream anymore.

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Year after another, sweet and sour days all pass.

As much as I go forward, my memories take me back. Simply put, I can't stop remembering.

Only my memories can push me forward, show me what I achieved, and guide me to my goals. They can tell me my favorite story, with all its details - a story that's my joy, sorrow, and pain.

I may write it here, someday!

Updated: 5/17/2012

Immeasurable Capabilities

 

From: 123RF

"I don't know"

"I can't"

"I am good - for - nothing"

And, the new one: "What am I supposed to do if my brain is only 1.5 GB?!"
As sharp as arrows, these words penetrate the ears, and demolish the ambition.


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"We blame the time while the fault is ours. The time's only fault is us" (From the Arabic poetry)


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We often complain about life, and how it breaks our hopes. We blame our luck, the lack of time, and others as well. Sometimes, we even accuse our capabilities and skills. We forget, or ignore, that we can be the enemies!

Where I Belong..

The sea breeze tickles my nose...

The little waves breaking on the beach attract my imagination..

Drops of the salty water scatter in the air, sparkling under the sun shine.. Golden, bold, and strong..

A touch of warmth sneaks into my soul..

Jeddah.. Where I truly belong!

# In a vacation.. until further notice!

Questions Without Answers

I know I am not as usual today. I did not write for quite a long time and perhaps that affected my mind slightly. However, I don't think I'll write about anything now.. Unless if I'm writing about myself, which I finally discovered!

Warning: today's post doesn't belong to my writings.. It's long, and perhaps harsh, and somewhat incoherent.. This is very natural when we consider it as a part of me and my thoughts, which was created in my mind from the beginning!

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 I have always been inspired by dreams, so, I drew them, decorated them, and became attached to them.

I even thought that my life is a big, fancy dream!
My life and my dreams... How stupid was I! What do I know about myself, anyway?

I Wish that Flowers Don't Wilt.. Ever!*

From: 6oyor-aljanah.com

Your bright smile.. Your kind words..
Your white heart and pure soul..
I miss you, Laila.. 

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 "May Allah protect you. I hope Allah will bring us together while we all are fine"

Sent: 9/25/2011  To: Laila

Five months have already passed, but nothing has changed.
I'm still captured in my memories..

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     About three years of my life, in which you weren't only my friend, but you were a sister to me..  I can't even remember how I lived before these years..
 Laila.. Do you remember how many times you wiped my tears? Don't worry. I don't need anyone to wipe my tears. I cry alone, anyway.
 Laila.. Do you remember our shared dreams? I still believe in them, but they don't make any sense to me. I need Laila, I can't achieve them alone.
Laila.. Who will encourage me to live now?
How will I survive?
Who will smile to me and talk, and realize that I'm a real person?
How in world can I find another "Laila"?

     Sometimes, I wonder if that is real. Did I have a friend like that?
This tale is so perfect that it can't be true.. Is she my imaginary friend or what?

A Dark, Endless Night

Uni Ying Yang - Night Picture

     I look around, but I can't see anything.. I re-open my eyes, but nothing has changed.. It is the same dark night, as if I became blind.

     Mysterious whispers are coming from a far place. As soon as I come closer, I realize that what I am hearing is not talking. It is a miserable, heart-breaking moan. I take another step forward, but I stumble and fall on  my face. I know my feet are bleeding, but I don't care. Suddenly, the moan stops, and the killing silence spreads again, as the death itself.

     I prick my ears up and listen.. I hear a shivering voice asking for help.. A  familiar voice calling me..

"Sis?" I call in the dark, but I don't hear any answer. Was I imagining things?

"Sis, are you there?" I call louder.

Almost hearing her breaths, I hear a soft voice answering.

"Yes, I'm here, but I can't see anything. Can you come closer?"

"I can't see anything, either.. If you continue to speak, I may be able to find you"

"OK, then. Be careful, this place is full of rocks"

Now you say..

A Handicapped Life..

Photograph by: Susan Hodge, From: Ksimages

     In a strange rotten world, in which the inequality smelled up the fresh air, many pale faces were staring like owls..

     In that dead world, a little child came running, trying to balance his steps. His laughs could be heard from far away, while his eyes reflected life ..

     The child stood there, smiling, but some killing words were said, and some loud laughs were heared.. His beautiful picture started to vanish.. The thirsty land was watered by his over-salted tears, and the reverberation of his angry cry deafened the ears..

     That boy couldn't understand what had happened.. He knew that all people have their different needs, but he didn't know that calling him a " special needs person" put him to death. His pure mind couldn't give him a chance to accept that world's first policy - If you are different, you don't belong to us..

     The boy disappeard, as if he has never been, leaving behind a red rose he was holding.. The wind blew, gradually taking the rose's color away.. And then, there was no trace of life!

The Day Dreams Became Mirage..*

Photograph: Lonely Sunset by ~dophineh

     When I look at a smile, cracked by tears… When I see a dream, shattered into pieces… When I watch the sunset…When the hope fades away while I'm watching… When the ashes bury the colors, and the hopelessness kills the happiness…  I don't know what to do! The fear hides talents, and the wishes are being cut from their roots… 

     I feel the sadness stops my breaths… I cling to every smile, every dream and every wish… I call the hope; hoping it will remember me… I imagine a world full of joy and only joy… But, it doesn't seem enough… 

     Every time, I fall from the top of my thoughts, and the horrible reality's sharp rocks break my wishes…I persist to bring my imaginings to life, but I don't know if I'll succeed.. Or, will I prefer the sweet imagination to the tart reality?!

     * To everyone tried to protect his/her dream, but it was "stolen" from him/her right before his/her eyes.. Keep going.. You ARE the hope!
      * This text was used once in a short story I wrote, called "My wonderful teacher"

It Is A Gift.. To My Heart

     To my little heart, I write my words..

I write them powerful, confident, brave and effective, wishing to become like them one day..

By writing, I try to refresh a hope hidden in my soul ..

Or to draw a picture, I have been dreaming about..

Or to erase some horrible facts..

     I know that my words are the most honest, faithful , and trusty friends in life..

     When I tell them stories, they always listen.. Sometimes, they become sad and turn black while they cry with me..

Other times, they blow up to turn into shiny stars, or colorful butterflies, as they see me smiling..
They are always by my side, but they resist me from time to time, ignoring my thoughts, correcting my feelings, and raising my aimes.. Then, I thank them cheerfully..

     Now, I scatter them here, perhaps they can relieve some pain, spread several smiles, or encourage homeless hearts..