#purpleentries

I feel content, like a floating speck on the crashing wave to form a seafoam.

I feel the lazy walk of time, how slow it pasts. How vividly aware of that phenomena.

I feel accomplished to reach my full potential, if only for a couple of minutes standing on a rocky ledge by the sea, mentally kneeling before the moon.

I feel connected to every living, walking soul goes by, even if not necessarily loving it. In fact, I have always had this sense of unfamiliarity towards other humans, but I still connect.

I feel as though all the weights I have been carrying have run off like a little kid chasing an escaping balloon. Hopeful but tired.

I feel sad, beaten-up, totally alive, aware, enchanted, exhilarated, guilty and already dead; all at once.

I feel self-excluded, yet self-tranced.

I feel whole, and hollow.

I feel, completely and utterly, feeling.

I wish I could tell you this instead of writing it for the oblivion. I wish I cried in front of you that day. I wish I said more. I wish you had tried harder to save us. I wish you had stopped me when I turned around. I wish you asked me to stay. For now I am starting to lose the reasons to.

I wish I was still angry, instead am met with this hollowing feeling of disappointment.

I wish to reach out for you but I know that’s a vain attempt of not having my words registered again.

I wish it was easier, I wish it was simpler than overthinking a million reasons why you would let me go.

I wish not to wish any of this.

3 AM

It’s 3 am and I am inhaling air and exhaling smoke.

It’s 3 am and am inhaling air and exhaling smoke.

It’s 3 am and am inhaling air and smiling.

Smiling at the thought of you.

It’s 3 am and I am loving you.

It’s 3 am and am loving the universe for giving me.

Its still 3 am and am inhaling air and exhaling smoke.

It’s 3 am and am thanking the universe for you. Thanking the universe for a lot, for a few, for a couple, for you.

All for you, always for you.

It’s 3 am and I am loving you, it’s 3 am and you are loving me.

It’s 3 am and am in awe for deserving you. For deserving this, all of this.

It’s 3 am and it hurts, it hurts to deserve this.

It’s 3 am and it hurts that you sleep, while loving me so deep.

It’s 3 am and it still hurts loving you, only that it doesn’t hurt at all, not anymore.

It’s 3 am and am blessed be, to have found you, loved you, in this life and until the last turn of all of my lives.

It’s 3 am and I still love you, now, and always will be.

It’s 3 am and I always will be, thankful, grateful, hurtful for thee.

It was 3 am and now it’s what? 7 pm?

It’s 7 pm and I still stand here and utter these.

I am waiting for the plane to take off, taking me back to Egypt. Back to reality, and away from my mother’s warm arms.

I regret yelling at her earlier when I momentarily lost my SIM card, I regret not hugging her tighter and longer at the gates, I regret a lot of things. Mostly I regret making homes out of people. For I made a home out of you love, I built this whole mansion out of all my secrets and midnight thoughts and the regrets I whisper silently to myself, and I sold it all to you. Like a doll house, I religiously imagined you inside of it, sharing a life with me, sharing me with me, with us.

January 23rd 2019, 2:55 am.

I feel content, like a floating speck on the crashing wave to form a sea-foam.

I feel the lazy walk of time, how slow it pasts. How vividly aware of that phenomena.

I feel accomplished to reach my full potential, if only for a couple of minutes standing on a rocky ledge by the sea, mentally kneeling before the moon.

I feel connected to every living, walking soul goes by, even if not necessarily loving it. In fact, I have always had this sense of unfamiliarity towards other humans, but I still connect.

I feel as though all the weights I have been carrying have run off like a little kid chasing an escaping balloon. Hopeful but tired.

I feel sad, beaten-up, totally alive, aware, magic, enchanted, exhilarated, guilty and already dead; all at once.

I feel self-excluded, yet self-tranced.

I feel whole, and hollow.

I feel, completely and utterly, feeling.

And now I am okay with feeling all while ending the book I have been writing for so long. It’s now time to publish, and time for me to depart.