Dear Palestine, (Part II)

I’m older now, it’s happening again.
You’re all I think about, day out and day in.

Your struggles were a white noise in the back of our minds.
But now? A stronger voice fighting to stay alive.

I have never yelled this loud or fought this hard until lately.
I’m done locking the pain away with Sido’s Palestinian ID.

You’re stronger, more patient and wiser than we’ll ever be.
The least we can do is have them show solidarity.

I was a fool before to think that our words were powerless,
Since it was truthful words, shared, that ignited every protest.

Words like ethnic cleansing, colonialism, apartheid, the list goes on.
Once you call it what it is, they won’t turn a blind eye for long.

We’re watching the seeds you’ve planted never bloom because of bombs.
Your olive trees have a right to grow, right to breathe, right to belong.

To them, your seeds are casualties, numbers on the news.
To us, they’re birds in heaven, flying away from the fumes.

And your elderly may have died before a free Palestine,
But your young never forgot what happened before their time.

We’ll remember to boycott, strike and refuse to comply.
That’s the only way forward to end this apartheid.

My blood carries Safad, Yafa & Ramleh. Don’t you see?
I’m very literal when I say dammi Falasteeni.

But all our hearts pump for you, from the river to the sea.
Because dear Palestine.. You were. You are. You will forever be.

~ Nadeen S.

Butterflies

I try not to say a word, nor make a sound

But I’m the one who’s numb this time round.

Emotions are overflowing, just not my own.

This feeling of apathy has overthrown.

Burying myself into books and shows,

Waiting to see if my heart ever glows.

I feel love and warmth around my family,

I feel love and joy around my friends.

I feel, and I feel, and I feel. Everything.

Yet.. nothing. My heart just pretends.

My mind tells me to go ahead, give it a chance,

But I’m paralyzed when it comes to romance.

I weigh out the pros and cons, the yes’s and no’s.

But butterflies aren’t part of my daily dose.

Running away from what is good for me.

Fully aware it won’t end happily.

Pessimistic and twisted? Not really.

Complicated and doubtful? More likely.

I cannot commit. But I want to, badly.

Is there someone who’s worth it? I mean, really?

I’m rambling now so I’ll leave you with this…

I’m happy and content, and so is my loneliness.

But as the days pass, my heart just siiiighs..

As it longs for those beautiful butterflies.

~ Ciao ~

Ted Mosby

I may have lost the ability to feel romantically towards any person and I hate that I’m like that.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I just haven’t met “the one” or the fact that I get bored too easily – I honestly have no clue. I’m not lonely, I’m not. I’m just incapable of feeling that way these days and it’s weird. It bothers me.

Do I have some high standards for myself that my subconscious has set? Am I just too emotionally exhausted to consider anyone at this point? I would love to have these questions answered.

Sigh.

I just want to know that I’m capable of being swept off my feet – that I’m capable of feeling butterflies. Gosh, how amazing would that be? To know that you’re not emotionally numb. To know that there’s someone who makes you feel that way.

Do not get me wrong though.

I don’t need that validation from anyone, I’m perfectly comfortable with the person I’m becoming and I am sure as hell not afraid of being alone.

But..

I just need to know that I’m capable of experiencing that excitement one day. I’m talking about that undeniable chemistry that gives you some sort of high.

Because let’s face it! Everyone would like to know what it feels like to be in love with someone, mutually, even if it’s for a little while.

So, here’s to hoping that my special someone is out there somewhere.

I would love to get to know you.

Damn.. I really do feel like Ted Mosby by saying that.

~ Ciao ~

My not-so-OCD.

Perfectionism is a personality trait that pushes you to handle your life flawlessly.

“I’m a perfectionist” is the first thing that pops into my head when asked about my best quality.

Perfectionism is a personality trait that pushes you to your limits negatively.

“I’m a perfectionist” is the first thing that echoes in my mind when asked about what hinders me.

*

I’m a perfectionist.

Always trying to aim high, shoot higher, and outshine.

I’m a perfectionist.

Below than above-average isn’t an option of mine.

I’m a perfectionist.

Constantly trying to master anything that comes my way.

I’m a perfectionist.

Struggling to handle my baggage every.single.day.

I’m a perfectionist.

I set high standards for myself in everything I complete.

I’m a perfectionist.

Achieving less than greatness isn’t encoded in my genes.

I’m a perfectionist.

Who  fails at concealing her neverending stress.

But I’m a perfectionist, never to please others, but to surpass myself.

~ Ciao ~

After 2AM Thoughts – Part IV

Disclosure: No life-altering lesson in this short post.

A dear friend of mine called me an empath the other day. As far as compliments go, I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. She didn’t mean it as a compliment though, she meant it as a character trait or a fact of some sort. It baffled me.

Empath.

It makes sense though. I always attract people who are going through something and need someone to fix it for them, and I always want to fix it.

I solve problems – it’s what I’m good at. Not sure if it has anything to do with the fact that I’m an ENFP, but it’s a possibility.

I’m an empath.

Still can’t get over it.

~ Ciao ~

Note: For anyone who realises, the “IV” in the title wasn’t an accident. “III” exists, but for my eyes only.

Light

Shut your eyes, imagine that it’s pitch-black. Lights appear around you. Pretend that they are solely powered by the goodness within humans; the kinder they are, the brighter they shine. Who are you noticing the most?

Now change the criteria. The light we emit depends on the number of hardships we’ve been through. Are you picturing the same person or have you thought of someone else?

Change it again. The brightest one in the room is the person in your life who has had the most accomplishments to date. Who comes to mind?

The kindest person you thought of may have never experienced the bitterness of betrayal, while the one who’s had the worst experiences may have refused to learn from them, and the person who’s achieved the most in their life may have had all of their opportunities handed to them on a silver platter.

We can’t base how we see people on one criterion, for human beings are complex creatures. Just like the electromagnetic spectrum, we are made of layers – with only a small portion that is visible to the human eye.

Don’t open your eyes just yet! Imagine that the lights shine based on all three criteria at the same time, do you even notice a difference between these people?

.

So the next time you’re getting ready to judge a person, or even rate them subconsciously, remember that we are all sources of light, it’s just that our luminous intensities are measured in different ways.

Real

“Fake it ’til you make it” – my friend told me as I wallowed after a break up.

“Fake it ’til you make it” – my colleague insisted as I failed another job interview.

“Fake it ’til you make it” – my sister reassured me as I questioned my happiness.

Fake it ’til you make it, fake it ’til you make it, fake it ’til you make it.

I paused for a moment and stared at the mirror, unaware of who was staring back at me. Was I capable of manipulating myself so well that I have changed? Have I lost all sense of what is real? I asked.

Fake it ’til you make it.
I kept thinking about those six words.

Fake it ’til you make it.
I kept wondering about this form of deception.

Is it meant to improve your life? Or has this healthy placebo effect turned into psychological abuse?

Fake it ’til you make it.
The words kept echoing in my head.

Fake it ’til you make it, fake it ’til you make it, fake it ’til you make it.

Until you don’t have to pretend anymore.

Flavours

Your ingredients – the core parts of your recipe – are pride, risk and strength.

All why I crave you, all within my reach.

You taste bitter sweet. That’s what I’ve been told, at least.

To what extent, though? I surely don’t know.

You’ve always been a fantasy, not a reality, to me.

Like white chocolate saffron truffles… Extravagant, unattainable.

And in theory – mouth-watering and pleasurable.

The complexities of your flavours are your biggest mystery.

Are you at all what I expect? My anticipation is killing me.

I’m afraid of my other senses setting the bar so high, that no matter what you do or how hard you try, I’m never satisfied.

So tell me this, are you a MasterChef with combos, balanced and fresh?

Or are your dishes made up of flavours that should never touch my flesh?

*

Hey muggles,

I just want to point out that “Flavours” was about my career, not about a person. We all have different stories to tell, so I really hope that this poem was perceived differently by each person. I mean, if we all had the same point of view then everything would be pretty flavourless, right?

~ Ciao ~

Opportunity Cost

What if.

What if choosing one path, just diverts us from another – one which, if chosen, might have made us feel better. Better about our lives, better about ourselves. Not bitter, just better.

Growing up, I’ve always been taught to never settle. Never settle for that other boy that I don’t like, never settle for that other job that I despise, never settle for another life that isn’t mine.

But what happens when you start thinking to yourself “that kind boy is very good to me, that okay job makes me money, and this average life could make me happy”.

Now, having a life-long dream sounds great I bet – for children who don’t understand the world quite yet. Because the minute those hopeful kids turn into adults, they’ll take off their rose-coloured glasses and notice life’s faults.

Don’t get me wrong though, as an optimist I think having a passion in life is noble, and that chasing it is ambitious. But as a realist, I’d be damned if I didn’t voice my opinion on this. So I say do settle, don’t explore “The Other”. Don’t mistake settling for giving up and think an average life isn’t enough. Sometimes settling makes you feel happier than that fairytale life you’ve been wanting forever.

And even though your dream belongs to an inner child that’s lost, it really is just another opportunity cost. It’s the path you’ve chosen not to chase. It’s “The Other” you could not, should not, would not face.

But… what if.

Dear Books,

To you, a person is a person. To me, a person is a book; a book I’d love to read.

Every one of those books has several chapters dedicated to riddles, crosswords etc. The difficulty of those puzzles would be proportional to the complexity of that person, and just like any Sudoku book you bought but never finished, some puzzles would be easy to solve, some would take longer to figure out, and others would be left unattempted. (Sorry for sounding like a Maths textbook, but you get the picture).

You see, there are some books that are great at first glance, but then end up disappointing you. Some that are so awful, you can’t force yourself to finish reading. Others that seem dull at first, but end up pleasantly surprising you. And finally comes those special few, the books that impact you deeply, the ones which leave you discovering something new with every read. 

Now, even though some walking books are deemed uninteresting in some eyes, I still think that everyone has a story worth sharing and that all stories should be listened to attentively. 

But..

When it comes to real-life, walking books and their stories, the context itself is not what grabs your attention, it’s the way it’s being shared that does. Their passion when they’re telling you about their experiences, their meaningful facial expressions, and the sincerity in their voices… that’s what amazes me most – not what actually happened, but how it’s being told.

Think about it. Think about every time someone told you something.. anything. It’s their excitement that made the story worthwhile.

Basically, my point is that..

Everyone is a walking book. And all books deserve to be read by one person or another.

~ Ciao ~

August 1st

My grandma passed away on this date, 8 years ago. And God do I miss her. She’s all I’ve been thinking about lately honestly. I’m literally staring at her bedroom as I write this and all that comes to mind is some piece of advice she gave me a couple of weeks before she died.

She told me to take a shower whenever I didn’t feel well. It wasn’t some fancy quote, it wasn’t some life changing piece of wisdom.. it was only her telling me to shower when I’m ill. Now, for as long as I could remember, that always meant to shower everyday when I’m physically sick, to help myself get better, but I don’t think that’s what she meant. 

I know it seems like I’m reading way too much into this but bare with me.

You see, the phrase ‘not feeling well’ isn’t specific to a stomach ache and a fever; it could also mean that you’re mentally, socially, or psychologically in a bad place. So, whenever I’m feeling down, I take a shower – even if I end up showering twice in one day. That’s what I do. I take a shower, it really helps. It literally makes me forget my problems and start over.

I know this sounds weird and simple but it really has impacted me. That or I just really, really miss her.

~ Ciao ~