Tag Archives: writing

WHO AM I?

What is the purpose of our existence if we can’t be true to ourselves?! Are we created to be made – or just to be?

The answers have always been simple, it’s the quest that determines our strength and persistence. It takes courage to remain loyal to yourself and avoid man-made distortions. Living in the Middle-east is uneasy and being a female who happened to be different makes it worse. Choosing to be true to yourself is SUICIDAL.

Over time everything changes. You get to learn that traditions are volatile. Self-discovery is essential, challenging society and questioning dogma are the noblest acts. Nevertheless, it is not an easy journey. The cattle will stand out to you, vilify and attack you. They will delude you to believe that there is no choice and that we are merely owned.  The path to enlightenment is loaded with thorns, but what is bliss if not for the struggle.

We rant and whine “Life is cruel” but life has disowned us long ago. Life is not to blame, it’s what we made out of life.

They established laws to mold societies and shape future. It is your choice, will you lose yourself to conformity or seize your liberty?

Limits are an illusion, our strength is infinite and freedom lies in resistance.

Don’t respect the status quo.

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Artwork by unknown artist.


On the Borders of my Mind.

It is ironic how a slight attack could change everything. It’s uneasy to explain or make feelings coherent. After all, borderline personality disorder comes with bits and pieces from everything else. Sometimes anxiety, unexplained fears, and the worst of all DEPRESSION. BPD comes with its baggage, as if, we, humans need more burdens! The world is hard itself, surviving is an act of courage in the 21st century, what’s the point behind having unseen monster that carves out holes on our fragile existence. And no matter how much you fight, monitor those thoughts and plead….. Nothing leaves.

I remember few years ago when I took a challenging decision to quit medications, I knew its going to be uneasy ride in my emotional circus. But, today I would do it all over again, I would take the very same decisions. Because it helped me, when I browse online forums and read what people are saying about their experiences, I wonder if that could be me OR I am just another spectrum. I read words that I am completely unfamiliar with “Co-dependence, manipulation, emotional abuse” and I wonder if I have ever been like that, I wonder if my father’s death shaped the different case of borderline I came across. I isolated myself from the world and wrapped myself in darkness to be safe, I managed to learn dealing with my volatile mood. I confess I mastered manipulation, a skill I learned as a reaction to those who truly deserve it, however, at some point in my life I was done. I despised seeing myself getting dragged in the path branded by manipulation, that wasn’t me. I had to escape.

I learned to put myself in everyone’s shoes regardless, to forgive and accept an apology I will NEVER get. After all, I didn’t want to see a corrupted image of myself and use BPD as my ultimate scapegoat.

Now, I look back and process how did the past 5 years pass in an eye blink, where I am today and the price I paid…. A very expensive price and I am not sure if anything in the world is worth losing human being in the process.

I look back knowing that I am 200% stronger, capable of handling my past and controlling my demons… I know that every episode will eventually pass, every heartache will go, and while soul-ache remains; I am certain that life is bittersweet.

I wish I can simply explain everything to the people who care, but I can’t or won’t. I have to fight this battle alone, I am not used to have someone under my skin, I won’t put my guards down, or share my darkest moments. I remember a friend said that I tend to use grand wording, because my feelings are quite huge. He didn’t know that he defined me, I am larger than life.

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Unknown artist


Melodies of myself…

– I still remember that day when words remained unsaid, when soul-aches pushed me apart like tornado, when my life changed and the roller-coaster ceased to define me. But I am fine… I can still swing in my personal opera, paint smiles out of sea waves, dance naked under the cold rain and breathe in silver moonlights.

Thoughts are like snakes tangling everything I am.  Reality is intertwined with fantasy. I can no longer recognize myself or my dreams or what I am longing for…. I am lifeless, numb and ruined. Feelings are so huge that I am unable to create a coherent statement or explain how I feel.  I wonder if tomorrow I can just vanish, disappear in existence like a forgotten feather that once witnessed remarkable moments and history through its flying journey.

But I am alive… I am alive even if surviving murders every ounce of my existence, I am alive even if memories are collection of razor blades torn my emotions, bleed and dance in my chaotic mind… my mind … my bitter sweet circus.

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Silhouette Dreams

Once upon a time in a silhouette reams

There was a girl dressed in fears

With eyes of a tiger

And heart of a fighter

She deceived the monsters disguised with dreams

Once upon a time in a silhouette cart

There was a girl with glass-shaped heart

With chocolate skin from silk

And piercing gaze paints kink

She escaped from monsters with angel parts

Once upon a time they thought they knew

The innocence inside colored.. yet hewed

She didn’t cease to rectify

What’s more than meet the eye

For her silhouette dreams

Rescued her from lies…..

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Made in Egypt

I wanted to call my piece “born in Egypt” but I found “made in Egypt” more appropriate, eventually in this country we are more of “made” NOT “born”; born suggests living with free will and free will is the mother of sins where I come from.

Usually I end every year with positive thoughts and bright new year resolution, but who am I fooling, we all survive here with a manual of terms and conditions…. and once you decide to oppose the herd, you become a misfit like me.

Let me introduce the external shell, on a professional level I am doing pretty well and thankfully, my lifetime war with family and society ended up with victory. But the price of where I am and who I am was/remains unbearable, for I decided to be my true self and speak out loud in a country that despises freedom, let alone a woman who speaks of freedom.

I am angry.

I am full of rage, I can no longer handle the way this society perceives me. I am tired of explaining and expressing that I might be human after all. I am severely sick from hearing “Rana, regardless of your eccentricity and odd thoughts, you are good – genuine -trustworthy and supportive.” these statements don’t make me feel proud, it suffocates me, it’s like a razor blade piercing each and every ounce of hope that I create from shattered pieces to hold on, survive…. Breathe.

I am dissapointed

Once upon a time there was a revolution, we all had hope, we live in an utopic delusion – we sensed euphoria and we failed to understand that it’s just momentarily.

Our hopes and dreams faded because of everything we failed to understand. Not only an oppressive rooted regime – but our corrupt morals, fragile ethics and HYPOCRISY.

How did we manage to fool ourselves? Change? Freedom? Are you kidding me? How could we expect change when we barley face ourselves with our misfortunes. When we breath hypocrisy, when we betray everyone even ourselves on daily bases?

How could you speak of freedom when you still believe that atheists, agnostics etc. should be sentenced to death? What part of the word “freedom” allows you to harass me just because I am different, how could you speak of human rights when you insult, hurt, mislead dozens of people for nothing other than personal reason rooted in your distort mind.

How am I writing all of this while I hurt many people along the way due to the circus in my mind and the traumas I can’t defeat yet. I might have not hurt anyone “intentionally” but I did by every mean during the war with myself. I am as corrupt…

I am numb

I have lost touch with my feelings, 2015 is such an enlightenment. I got to see the raw ugly image of my society, my people… I wonder why am I surprised? Am I that naive?

However, being numb is pretty useful my friends. I don’t get shocked from daily sexual and verbal harassment anymore, I just live with it – After all, I am an Egyptian pierced and tattooed, I am definitely asking for it, if I was a foreigner then I wouldn’t be asking for this but being Egyptian and different equates and invitation for everyone to occupy my body or at least pierce my brain… What’s the big deal anyway?

Someone told me few days ago that I “escape” from my emotions and I runaway from feelings… Seriously! Why is it hard to absorb my numbness… Live with it, I am not there….

If you live in a country where people resist Police and military abuse and torture but they don’t have the guts to speak of domestic violence and child abuse. What change are you expecting?

If you live in a country where many people would fight sexual harassment but wouldn’t dare to open topics like incest and parental abuse. How can we forge change?

If we live in a country where people still consider parenthood as a sacred institution and domestic violence is god given right, how the fuck will we change anything?

If we are living in a country where men are granted to fool around and cheat while women would be tortured to death in the name of honor. Will we ever witness critical change?

Bottom line

“There can’t be large scale revolution until there’s a revolution on an individual level”

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Diabolique Chronicles II ..

Mogwai – Take me somewhere nice….

3 YEARS AGO….

Berry…

Morning routine, writing side by side..

One of her freaks calls, he laughs, video record her blushing face, unaware that she blushes from diving onto his eyes, isolated from the words said over the phone.

A friend surprises from another continent for one day – Morning routine plus one, she pretends to enjoy the surprise, the unexpected gesture, just to avoid falling.. Yet, she remains looking at him.

Hard confession.

Hands in pockets, avoiding a slight touch… Conflict..

Long walks, the Jewish temple.. Lost in art.. Lost in each other.

Tough flu… Long sick beautiful night flavored with soup….

Tango OR Kizomba…

Violence, clashes, birthday girl – time stops.. 12 am.. Berry intertwines.. inferno….Magic…

Heliopolis – in the middle of a protest, arguing, disconnected and lost in his eyes. Murdering passion…

Isolation, escape, illusion and one night, intertwine… In the middle of the street after midnight, soul burns with passion, lips longing to devour but she leaves..

Mind burns, soul and heart aches -She does not want to lost this, better secure distance..

Another evening, Berries… Pretends to be distant momentarily and again lips intertwine, souls devour each other… Time stops.. They became one…

But who can overcome fate… ambiguous events, rants… 3 years later, she remains clueless, longing for answers and giving up on fixing…

3 years later, when Angelique turns to Diabolique… Filled her days with muse and colors, until one day, she realizes that dates are marked by his existence and separation – disconnection..

If you only know that its untrue….

Birthday is marked with numbness, questions and craving…

Edward Hopper

                                            Edward Hopper


Diabolique Chronicles – The Art of Being Me

You don’t know me – a statement that should be remembered over and over again, for ego blinds intuition and lust haunts your passion…

Liberty is what defines me, I remain a body seeking to intertwine with its soul, lost in my vision and aiming to reach horizon.

Love equates complexity, for giving in is almost impossible and mistaken compromise with submission blocks me. How can a she wolf turns submissive.

Passion might be my ultimate gift for you until you take it for granted – I disappear, for I am the girl who longs for solitude and loses herself in serenity.

Don’t count on nostalgia, for my black box of memories is occupied with one star, a star that went apart long ago, but it remains craved in my heart and soul.

Beware from oblivion, for I have mastered the art of Oblivion.

Angelique (Angelic)  I am with all my body, mind and soul BUT Diabolique (Diabolic)  remains accompanying me, I am the extreme double faces, and when you provoke the borders of my mind, I flip.

Don’t be blinded by your strong masquerade, for the rebel could see through you, embraced and accepted you, and as you ceased to chain her.. She escaped and will continue haunting you.

I lied there charmed momentarily –  my mistaken love…

Unjust_Freedom_by_Faei

Unjust Freedom by Faei


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