Did I ever
tell you I''m
Claustrophobic? I can''t
remember. Usually closed places put me in an uncomfortable situation. When I''m in my room, I keep the curtains open. I like to look out my window every once in a while and watch the scintillation of distant lights. I like to imagine that there is someone out there, on that other mountain, looking outside his/her window as well and perhaps noticing my bedroom lights on. However tonight... my bedroom curtains are shut... my bedroom lights are off... and my bedroom door is locked.
zakaria12345678@hotmail.com just added me. I must admit, I did stop at his deep e-mail address before clicking the reject button. Usually I do not wonder that much in front of new address, especially that I am used to weird people adding me now. The electricity just went off... That should definitely be a great addition to my current mood. Yesterday I was out with my mother and sister and we went into one of the neighboring stores. After some time, I saw a middle-aged man holding the hand of a very sweet ten years old girl. He was wearing a fairly old yellow-beige shirt and black pants. She was trying a one-piece yellow swimming suit which he was planning on purchasing for her. I took a
second look at the man... and
judged him instantly. I wouldn''t give second chances nor would give more time before the judgement. That man was judged. That man was judged negatively. My mom noticed me looking at him and she said: "That is an example of a helpless man who probably makes 500,000 Lebanese pounds per month and who wants to purchase a swimming suit for the little girl... and they still dare to say that people are wealthy...". I looked at her with my lips pressed against each other. "Who told you he''s helpless?" "It shows on his face..." "He''s not helpless.". My mom
didn''t understand. I knew she didn''t understand. Yet she didn''t ask any further details, she just didn''t say any additional word and judged for herself that he wasn''t m3attar, eventhough she didn''t understand. Last year, towards June or so, was my last time I went clubbing. I remember it perfectly well. I remember me wearing a fuchsia satin top, I remember me being 15 Kilos fatter and I remember that man. I remember that man winking at me four times at Sanyour and blowing a final kiss before me leaving the restaurant. It was the last time I''ve been to Sanyour. I remember judging that man. That man was judged again. I''m sure he couldn''t remember me, but I''m also sure that he
felt cornered and judged. Did I ever tell you I''m claustrophobic? I really can''t remember.
I don''t like my neighborhood because I don''t like my neighbors. Not those who live in the same building, because ironically enough, we never meet. I don''t like the neighbors I see when I go out on my favorite place in the entire house, the balcony. There''s a very loud old man who doesn''t want to die. Perhaps because paradise and hell both agreed that he was too much of a skum. I hate his voice. I hate to wake up hearing his voice and I can''t fall asleep if I''m hearing his voice. However, the only reason why I still don''t mind looking at his direction is because just above his house live three little African kids. I enjoy looking at them. They seem so innocent that I forget about my fear of heights. One time my eyes crossed those of the youngest one among them, who is probably in his fourth year. He smiled back, very timidly, hiding behind his mother''s laundry. Yet I feel so furious... so fuming with anger when that man who doesn''t want to die engages in a conversation with him: "Where are your parents little dicky?".. What can you say to such a skum? I just feel sorry... Sorry to live across such an ignorant whose sole permission to use my previous word is the color of that little kid. while I was parking my car, I cought him staring at me from behind the white bars of their balcony. When oter came out... and smiled..... timidly again. I just felt like inviting him down and taking him on a ride in my little Picanto and buy him a Mc Donald''s meal... But I didn''t... Did I ever tell you I''m affraid of heights? I can''t remember....
I just locked myself in today. The house was empty and so was my agenda. I just held the covers up to my chest and dived into the pile of DVDs I wanted to finish. I kept repeating each scene three times because at every time I pressed Play, my mind would take me elsewhere and my thoughts wouldn''t quit. By the end of the day, my heart felt heavy just as the company got heavier. Wanting to keep myself busy, I just opened my closet and threw the clothes on the bed... folding them again when the phone rang. "Bonjour Nicoleeeee" "Bonsoir tante" "How are youuu?" "Fine" "What are you doing?" "Tidying up my closet" "Why?! Travelling?" "No. Do you want my mom? MAMAAAAAAA" and I closed that phone as boldly as I could. Who the hell cares whether I''m travelling or not? If that lady knew something, no need for her to go all zig-zaggy about it. I hate questions! I hate meaningless people! They should be forbidden to engage in any sorts of communicating action. If I was to tell her that I''m with my friend, would she have asked "Are you two shagging?"...
Today is Saturday. I must admit, I opened one curtain eventually. Yet it is still dark enough both on the inside and outside. While surfing that interesting phenomenon that is Facebook, I fell on many profiles, of people who made my heart beat once... of people who never deserved those beats. They haven''t changed. Their friends haven''t changed. They are still those same teenagers I''ve once felt for, those same teenagers I''ve never felt for. Their traits are still the same. The eyes, the smiles, and even their beauty spots. The only thing that has changed is me. As weird, wise, narcissistic or foolish as I might have gotten... attributes vary. Today is Saturday. And in seven days, just seven days, I''ll be one year older. What is age, really? It''s nothing. Every day I learn about people dying at a certain age, marrying at a specific number and learning something new every second. But what is age? I remember how five years ago, I was extremely impatient. Five years ago, I was 15. It was a Sunday. We went for lunch and then came back and cut my cake and that was it. My friends couldn''t come because the second day was a monday. There was no one to pick them up late at night because their parents worked the second day. So I made a vow to myself. I made a vow that five years later, on August the 4th 2007, I will have a special birthday because for once every 5 years, my birthday falls on a Saturday. So since it''s on a Saturday it should be special. This was my vow to myself, five years ago. Another vow was that by the time I''d turn thirty, I would have travelled to spain and kissed under the rain.
Deep breath... I just repeated the previous out loud. It felt better saying it out loud "Deep breath"... and I say it again. However it doesn''t sound as good saying it the second time. My mouth is dry. I take 12 sips of water as I normally do. So weirdly, it makes me rest assured to know that 12 sips of water equal a full glass. I think I''m dragging purposely... I''m typing whatever just to delay my click on that blue "Publish" button... and I wonder.."Did I reveal enough of my disapointment?" I''m sure I didn''t. Because whatever I do and whatever method I use, there will always be a couple of unspoken words, a couple of words I keep to myself because it''s too risky to publish them... and I bite my lower lip and take deep breaths... wondering who will possibly succeed in going through all these 104 lines...who will possibly understand all these 104 lines. But the important question is... Did I ever tell you I''m claustrophobic?... I seriously can''t remember.
(07/28/07- 12:49 AM-
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