This morning it took me forever to move from bed, I struggled with the seasonal mental circus to get myself ready.
“I have to get up and get ready to work, and afterwards I will head to Mohamed Mahmoud street memorial!”…….
Mohamed Mahmoud where I saw my dearest Ramy Al Sharkawy for the last time.
Mohamed Mahmoud where freedom fighters lost their eyes.
Mohamed Mahmoud massacre where I saw treason in it’s worst shape.
Mohamed Mahmoud where I learnt that weakness is a luxury and it’s not for us.
Mohamed Mahmoud where you imprison pain, fear, oppression and stand still.
Mohamed Mahmoud where speaking out “Down with military role, Down with Muslim Brotherhood” is met with live ammunition and internationally prohibited chemical gases.
Mohamed Mahmoud where there was no inch left without blood.
Mohamed Mahmoud where security forces fired at field hospitals.
Mohamed Mahmoud where we shared immortal scars.
Mohamed Mahmoud is when insomnia started, when I still struggle to get two continuous hours sleeping without bloody flashbacks. Where blood scenes haunt me regardless, haunts me during sleep, as soon as I walk nearby, as close as I get to a friend who was standing next to me in front lines. When getting dressed up, partying and writing cheerful words is nothing but a state of denial that fades away as soon as memories trigger.
I though that I am strong enough, but I am not, I miss the girl I used to be before the revolution and as much as I was irresponsible, plastic and careless, I could sleep!!
I am not strong, I am scared, devastated and desperate, and for that I am not myself anymore, I scream out, I wear masks and I do everything to convince myself of my inner strength. During the past years, I loved people and I hurt them back, I pushed away many fearful of the nightmare of losing anyone, My worst demons controlled me and ironically, I wasn’t weak, on the contrary, I was so egoistic, and so tough on myself in order to continue and stand still. I got disappointed, I was betrayed by every mean as all the hopes which came with the revolution are nothing but a parallel illusion.
I am sorry for those I hurt on the way, I am sorry that you crossed my chaotic path, I am sorry for not being able to keep being my truly self with you… I was scared for anyone to sense the deep craved insecurities.
It’s funny that from the outside my life is heading towards the right path, yet I remain struggling with flashbacks and the current state of the country, I FORGOT HAPPINESS, I am desperate of tasting an ounce of momentarily happiness but it’s not there anymore. Happiness is also a luxury.. Not for me, not for us.
I am tired of standing still, I am sick of facing my worst demons everyday, I am exhausted from racing in the same circle. I miss my father, I miss who I really am, I miss the days of the 25th of January, I miss my secret dilemma, my teenage dream that remains haunting me. I miss you!
Smile Rana— Smile IDEAS ARE IMMORTAL AND LIBERTY IS INEVITABLE.
Anonymous artist. Taken from Arab Press EU.