Where are my dreams. Where is life and sentiment. Where is wonder and where did magic go. Where are all the answers and where is love. Where is friendship and where is knowledge. Where is passion and where is lust. Where is clarity and where is my mind.
I force words out onto my paper, they are so definitive they scare me. Documenting my life is not as easy as i hoped it would be. Not because it needs skill but because my life is not as interesting as i wanted it to be. To begin with i am not Britney Spears since that was one of my early girlie-sh dreams, i am not a belly dancer- my Egyptian dream- i am not a best selling author, i am not an ambassador, i do not have stunner modal looks, i do not know very much. And according to my calculations it will take about 380,000 years for me to become a billionaire if i save a hundred dollars every month. No Lies.
Off begins my post graduate life, and i learn the perks of life. I enjoy the arrogance of youth and i learn what it means to just be. I believe in friendship again and i attempt to have faith in life. I learn that a twist of events does not only happen in books but in life as well. I light up one day and another i hide in every dark corner hoping to leave no trail behind as i wait to die. So its all good. The song says im going to find my way, well i hope hes right, and hes not being a surrealist weirdo with a good voice. And oh my god, i think music is my mentor, better tone down the metal then. Im sure no one believes i listen to metal, well i don’t, its only because i genuinely am afraid and i take it personal. Every time they scream i cry.
Aside from my over analyzing skills and unpaid talents, i still have some tricks up my sleeve, or at least that’s what they say in movies. Truly i have no secrets, except for the ones i need to hide. And so i sail, with wind in my hair. Well not to ruin the image but this wind is not the pretty kind of breeze that makes you look like a million dollar modal, but the kind of storm that absolutely messes up your hair and your skin becomes sticky and salty; very hipster wind.
Hence, comes the conclusion for this awesomely put together piece of writing. Guys, stop acting like girls, don’t wax unless you look like cave men. You are not meant to be soft, well only if you agree to switch roles then cool, get ready for women to go all discovery channel on you. And girls, oh your all pretty and sweet, but excuse the prostitutes; they got nothing on you ladies, they better get their act straight. So peeps of Lebanon, i have never and most probably will never enjoy your company; i think God had an exquisite sense of humor to have made me a national here and is purposefully locking me up in this trashy heaven. But, i shall not quit nagging and criticizing, not because im better but because i am literate enough to form sentences, i look innocent enough to get away with it and i simply have read more books than the average Arab.
Arrogance. Simple and well earned.