Beirut Explosion August 4, 2020

For some the Apocalypse isn’t a future possibility but a historical reality.

There are no words to describe what happened here on August 4, 2020. The blast in Beirut was staggering in magnitude, and I still can’t wrap my head around what happened. You think you’d get accustomed to tragedy but you never really do.  In an instant, hundreds of people died (many buried under the rubble), thousands injured hundreds of thousands were left without a roof over their heads, and scores of people are still missing. People lost their loved ones, their homes, their businesses in a blink of an eye.

What happened is much more horrible than most grotesque tale. Beirut is literally destroyed; streets are littered with debris. There’s not enough space to stand here and not enough oxygen to breath. We live in a country already suffering from all the possible nightmares: a brink of total unmitigated economic collapse, hyperinflation, collapse of national currency, skyrocketing unemployment, oligarchy corrupted warlords ruling for decades, pandemic and now our capital city is destroyed. We felt as if our hearts have been wiped off our bodies. Broke and broke beyond imagination in all parts.

My tears trickled as I watched ghastly images of Beirut, I kept replaying videos showing the explosion and kept asking myself “How could this happen?” Seeing death, crying children, adults running horribly feared, blood and destruction everywhere I broke down in tears along with my friends. We were grieving for all the lost lives, memories, for our broken nation and dreams, and for our unknown future. The surreal destruction of Beirut symbolized our downfalls.

Our hearts may have died that day, but we still have hope. Despite all the destruction I kept seeing unconditional love and sacrifices among the Lebanese.The people carrying children and running for shelter. The people wiping each other’s blood. The people comforting each other and holding each other. Those taking the wounded to the hospital. Those lining up to donate blood. Those who are helping cleaning debris and donating. The amount of love, and selflessness is overwhelming. We shall rise again; we shall show the world how to be unbroken.
Beirut, I love you ❤

Not a very happy Father’s Day

Today is Father’s Day; father is supposed to be a child’s first protector, mentor, and hero but unfortunately for many a father can be their first nightmare and tormentor, so:

Not a very happy Father’s Day for those children who have always been dismissed by their fathers whenever they wanted approval or to be appreciated.
Not for those children who suffer every day and want their father to reach out to them or help them and be there for them in their dark times.
Not for those children who felt envious or teary eyed every day while growing up when they saw other fathers being physically affectionate towards their children because they never received it.
Not for those children who never felt loved by their father regardless of how hard they tried.
Not for those children who got beaten up and bruised and molested by a father or father figure.
Not for those children whose father seemed to love and be proud of anyone else but their children and their achievements.
Not for those children who confuse abuse or rape for love.

Love Yourself

Be good to your heart. Have faith on your soul. Embrace the flaws and acknowledge your perfections. Take pride in the victories but before that accept your defeats. Admire the scars and preserve the memories.
But most of all, be brave to be You. Don’t be afraid to face the world alone. Don’t keep yourself away from being your best friend. Don’t let loneliness tell you that you are alone as long as your heart beats ricochets signifying a life far more precious than any you have ever befriended.
Because when the storms come and the only sun is swallowed to an abysmal darkness, it is the fire within you that will light up the whole world.

So remember, you are Everything. You are Wonderful. You are Power. You’re a Warrior and you will soar through it all, every-freaking-time!

 

Unsteady

Have you ever felt like a feeling is slipping out of you, slipping away, so much so, that you feel a need to find ways to hold onto it? That the very foundation you believed in, the world you created on it’s platform..is crumbling to dust? How do you grasp onto the fleeting moment of an emotion before it’s gulped into a veil of numbness? Do you run after it? Do you catch it? Do you cage and tame it, if you do? Or do you let it go, because for once the lifelessness seems less scary, that it’s better for the numbness to swallow you than to let reality eat you up?

 

The Never-Ending Circle

You feel Miserable; you yearn for Appreciation.
You yearn for Appreciation; you yearn for Love.
You yearn for Love; you fall in Love.
You fall in Love; you have everything.
You have everything; but, you begin to lose one thing at a time.
You begin to lose one thing at a time; you lose Everything.
You lose Everything; you fall out of Love.
You fall out of Love; you feel Miserable

 

Memories

Life went by so quickly that it was impossible to keep track of all the things I had lost in the way. So many smiles I would never see again. So many roads I might never walk again. The old cassettes we thought were worthy to save and collect.

Life went by so quickly that it was impossible to keep track of all the things I had lost in the way. Like the way the bustling video shops closed down without any of us noticing. Like the way we could only reminisce now of how patient we used to be with lagging video games and weekly episodic melodramatic TV series.

Life went by and we evolved, grew and became the people we thought we would never. The veneer of innocence was lost someday and we never went back and searched for it.

Life went by and we lost things we never considered precious. But, now, some nights, they come back only to haunt. I am growing too fast. I am vanishing all too soon. If I had another chance, I would try to hold them tighter, but, then, I remember, sand sips out of anything that is broken, once. It’s done.

Justice

Justice.
It’s such a brazen word, such a mouthful. Justice demands you to take it wholly inside yourself and grapple with it. It doesn’t get sidelined in a second or forgotten by the time it has been said, like peace or hope. It’s a heavy word, it doesn’t sit easy when uttered by one pair of lips and it needs more to join in. It doesn’t ask you whether you will be able to shout it. It has as much sway even when whispered.
Justice is such a brazen word, so much so the ones, who first decry it, are the last ones it reaches.

 

Exclusion and Inclusion

We’ve all been trained to exclude someone. It could be anyone. Literally anyone. And we all have our exclusions. Each one of us.

You have been given good justification and proper time to cultivate that tree in your mind that exclusion of that person is right. You meet people who exclude the same people and become satisfied with that belief more. It’s easy.

It’s inclusion that will be troublesome. You’d have to admit what you were taught was wrong, accept that a certain unlearning is required and actually take steps to withdraw from that school of thought. It’s a lifelong process. It’s hard. But it’s right.

When you look back at your life at 50, 70 or from your death bed, may you be filled with content that you lived a life that didn’t discriminate one hand from another, one soul from another.

Everyone has a story

There are so many people. They’ve so many stories. Sometimes they reflect a certain degree of discontentment, and their lips shiver and their eyes… They become wet, and then they let us explore a side of theirs no one ever could. There are so many with the tragedy of partition, there are so many mothers waiting for their son to come home, from that late night party, drooling of disgust, drunk and inebriated, and the strict fathers getting that phone call that their son didn’t make it through the accident.

There are so many lovers trying their best to help the other, the girl with that golden smile, left alone in the dark of the city, waiting to be rescued, and you see from the far away corner of the road, her smile glowing frequently. There are so many grandmothers taking care of their druggie grandchildren.

The echoes of these stories are heard thoroughly by every passerby, and these stories continue to echo, for days and days and years and centuries.

“My son, was the best son.”
“We gifted him a car. It killed him.”
“I loved him, but he left me.”
“Addicts never change.”

And they prevent us from sleeping.

Honesty in a fake society

There is and old saying “It’s better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie” and I am among a very selected few that actually believe this rings true. People say they want the truth but in reality they want you to say what they want to hear.

Maybe it’s me there is problem with, maybe I need to stop being honest with people. I mean what’s the point upfront and honest with people when they would be happier living a lie and having you consign for it. They say ignorance is a bliss maybe that’s why intelligent people go insane, it is truly burden to know and feel so much and know there is no way a good majority of people will ever able to understand, share and or appreciate your thoughts, gestures and opinions. People are so used to other lying and being fake, honesty is now taboo. People look for hidden meaning in words that have none because everyone is so accustomed to bullshit; no one says what they really mean.

One thing you can always count on me for you is to take my words at face value and this is why I now stay to myself. I don’t fit in this society or this generation; I’m not plastic enough.