Scribbles (2)

It really is tough; this whole situation is. I’m not weak, nor do I want to be perceived as such. 
 But what’s happening is a bit much. I’m at work, no idea what to do and each thought can’t be acted upon.

 I need to study again, live again, love again. I want to be alone yet surrounded by kind people. Don’t get me wrong, I love this city. Maybe it’s the lack of money and because I live extravagantly, maybe I should work on that a bit. I don’t regret meeting the people I’ve met; I’m actually grateful, for they made me realize, I’m never complete.

 Is it a chemical balance I’m experiencing again? Am I ever gonna heal? Am I ever gonna be accepted, not just in love, but in every other aspect? Am I that bad? Am I beyond repair? Maybe I’m smart enough to ask these questions. Maybe I’m pathetic, too. I’m writing to the void because I have nobody to talk to. 

And, I know for a fact that soon enough I won’t be able to take it. Just then, will I cease to exist, literally. I might have hurt some people, but do I deserve it? My words are weak and vapid, but they have been burning down my soul for so long I don’t think I will ever recover. I had so much to give yet none had the will to receive my tainted love.

The taboo of being the girl with own brain, and a different "outlook"

It’s not exogamy that bothered them the most. I do believe it’s a deeper psychological urge that led to us being put under a microscope for scrutiny and such.

Booking the ticket was not the issue; embarking on the Egyptian traditions-laden bus was. We’d like to think of it as a funny little escapade. He’s a westerner, she’s Egyptian, in Egypt. The fact that it’s not the other way around made it rather fun, albeit two-faced.

 It’s mere hypocrisy to be fine and accepting for an Egyptian guy to be with a foreign girl/girlfriend, but to be with a foreign guy when you’re an Egyptian girl, it’s a taboo, especially if he’s from a different culture, set of traditions and rather liberal background.

Our first few checkpoints were smooth, and being chilled and very relaxed played a major role in that. The last one, however, was a little bit scary. They pulled us aside, asked about how we know each other. We simply said, “We’re engaged!” Horror took over these guys in uniform. My ID clearly states I’m a Muslim. So, how could that possibly be? The fact that he’s the blonde, rough-looking guy with a laid-back attitude made him the center of attention and consequently got me interrogated by a high-ranking official. Now, that was fun.

Official: Is he Muslim, too?

Me: He’s studying to be one.

Official: Does your family know?

Me: Yes.

Official: Does he have any Islamic books on him.

Me: (Right! Because we all go around carrying something to prove we’re more superior than others) I don’t know. You’re gonna have to ask him.

Official: Can you ask him for us?

Me: Absolutely.

Now, I don’t know how to put that, but being treated as a low life just because, is utterly disgusting, to say the least.

We talked heaps about this for so long and told friends who were scared for us, and even though we were laughing all the time, it didn’t make me feel any less bitter.

I know for a fact that if the shoe was on the other foot and I was the Egyptian guy, it’d have been a token of victory and pride. But my genitalia failed me, yet again, in this country.