في حب

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.


Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!


Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth,
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say, My love why sufferest thou?


Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For so the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
-"Longing" by Matthew Arnold

heartbreak.
i never understood what that meant. "i'm still alive but i'm barely breathing," couldn't be more exact to how i feel at this very moment. it's an almost numbing sensation, i'm baffled as to how i (the fortress of emotions) got here underneath the ruble.

four months.
i remember the pain i felt that night as i walked towards my door, the orange haze of the street lights blurred my vision as my eyes watered. stabbed through the heart, that's how it felt. his indifference and almost cool attitude made the drive home unbearable. why hadn't he told me the truth? why hadn't he just said, "i'm going to shatter your heart tonight" why did i ever fall for his best friend.
a dance. one stupid dance. i asked too much. i once had my palm read and the lady looked at me and said, "you won't be happy because you won't allow others entry into your heart." fair enough. i always had my guard up when it came to the opposite sex. i never had the typical teen age girl's views on love. "happily ever after!" "i'm going to marry him," or the most absurd, "i love him." i had a strong head on my shoulders and a cynical point of view of the world around me. then something happened, everything changed...for the worse.
intelligent, humorous, a smart ass, athletic, kind, sweet, clever, callus, cold-hearted, a coward, insensitive. perfect. i fell head over heels for him. my heart skipped a beat everytime i saw him walk into the room. i watched his games with the hope that he'd turn and see me there sitting in the crowd. all those car rides home, his eyes gave me a look that i haven't found to this day: fear and desire mixed in one gaze. we never kissed, we never had sex, we never did anything physical but that wouldn't have been the point. i won't lie and say those aren't important aspects for me but what i really wanted was for him to let go of his inhibitions and take a leap of faith. faith, a concept his whole life revolved around. instead i blinded myself with nonsense and convinced myself that he could like me. too bad i found out the truth much too late.

last night.
"we laughed about the whole thing. it was actually pretty hilarious." i cringed at the thought that my most vunerable moment had been turned into a joke, literally. how could he laugh? how could he look me in the eye at school as if it had been no big deal? how could i have been so stupid! i laid in bed with a weight on my chest that grew heavier each passing day. i picked my phone up and texted the bastard. my heart skipped a beat. what should i say? should i call him names? should i expose him for the asshole that he is? no. i will simply say, "i will learn to forgive you and move on." yeah right. i may not have been a bitch but i was by no means pleasant (i am a woman, we can hurt with words). i cried. i cried like i should have cried that night walking towards my door. i cried for placing my heart on a stake, for letting my heart take over instead of my head, for allowing fear to take over his desicions, for his inability to grasp an opportunity, for his loyalty, for his viture, for my shamelessness, for my unjust hatred, for my callus, cold-hearted ways. i cried myself to sleep, and woke up barely breathing.

"i want none of this/they're just bad memories, i don't want"
two more years. i'll have to wake up every morning with the constant fear of running into him around campus. fear. it no longer dwells in his gaze but in mine. fear of rejection, fear of loss, fear of letting someone in. it will not be easy, heck it'll be a daily struggle, yet i must survive. i will forgive, him and myself. i did my part to make this happen, i placed him between the sword and the wall. he as the better man and chose the sword with his head held high. what happens next you ask? enlightenment. "The repayment of a bad action is one equivalent to it. But if someone pardons and puts things right, his reward is with Allah…" (Qur’an, 42:40). the road goes forward and i will not turn my head and look back. how's it going to be when i don't know him?...bittersweet.

and the darkness blinded my eyes. and the silence made my heart scream louder.
في حب, translation: in love with...

dezoito.

Why do children want to grow up?  Because they experience their lives as constrained by immaturity and perceive adulthood as a condition of greater freedom and opportunity.  But what is there today, in America, that very poor and very rich adolescents want to do but cannot do?  Not much:  they can "do" drugs, "have" sex, "make" babies, and "get" money (from their parents, crime, or the State).  For such adolescents, adulthood becomes synonymous with responsibility rather than liberty.  Is it any surprise that they remain adolescents? 
-Thomas Szasz


legal.

i don't know if perhaps i expected too much (i mean i didn't think i'd get a parade and fireworks) but turning 18 was not very thrilling.
i thought things would be different, i thought my life would make a 180 and change for the better, i thought i'd forget, i thought i'd mature, i thought too much about a double digit number.

sure! there's perks. i can buy ciggs, vote, gamble, go to clubs and hookah bars but is that really it? did i wait all this time to find out that it wasn't a big deal? i wish i could say that turning 18 was a monumental occasion in my life. that being an "adult" was intoxicating and exciting. i wish i could say all those things, instead reality once again slapped me in the face; i've been an adult my whole life.

responsible? yes. outspoken? yes. driven? yes. always talks things out? yes. has to deal with immature youngsters? yes. motherly? sadly, yes. loving? no comment.
see the problem did not lie with my birthday not being a grand celebration, the problem dealt with realizing that i always held the title of "adult" (even if i only was a child). i'd be lying if i said it didn't hurt, at first, to figure out that i never really was a kid. it never dawned on me that i didn't live the life of a kid. it came as instinct to take care of myself, and others, after my father's death and it never bothered me to just stay home and do homework after helping my mother clean. i grew cold to certain spheres in life, cynical in general, and short tempered.

however, i also learned a few good things. how to brush off simple misunderstandings, talk things out with others, take risks, become independent, show compassion and tolerance for others, and plant the seed that would keep me driven to succeed until this very day.

ok, so maybe being an "adult" since i was 8 wasn't such a bad thing. it's true, i didn't get the bells and whistles i hoped for on my 18th birthday but i did get one thing: i found myself. i found a girl who screamed "paradox!" in her being and yet still managed to stay serene and confident.

my life may not be what i expected (shoot, i'm becoming religious if you can believe it!) but it's sure been one hell of an eighteen year long ride.