Category: Prose

Letter

February 1st, 2017

Letter to my sixteen year old self:

Don’t let the world drag you down. Don’t let anybody tell you what you are and what you aren’t. Your mother spent years calling you beautiful, don’t let society tell you otherwise. No, she isn’t crazy. (And no, a donkey is not a gazelle in his mother’s eyes.) Moms aren’t blind, they just see the beauty in you that you haven’t learned to see yet. She’s building you up in a society that is dragging you down. You owe that woman your strength as a woman later on in life.

Listen to your dad. In hindsight, he always had your best interest at heart. I know it’s not something you thought you’d ever say about him because “he’s the devil in disguise”. But trust me, listen to him. Even when he grounded you, or took away your phone, or even stopped talking to you until you learned your lesson. Just listen. He isn’t your enemy. He would fight the world to make you happy. He just doesn’t know how to express that love in the way you need him to. One day you’ll come to that realization. And yes, his belly will get bigger later on.

You will never regret being there for your family, but you will regret putting your friends before them. Always be there for them, even if you have “better things to do”. See them. Spend time with them. There will come a day when they’re scattered all over the world and you’re going to miss having a full noisy house. You’ll miss hearing your sisters fight, and your brothers playing football, or wrestling in the living room. (They’ll actually never grow out of that, by the way.)

Don’t jump from friend to friend. Friendship is about quality, not quantity. You’ll end up surrounded with fifty empty cells when things are smooth in your life, but you’ll always wonder where they are when you’re down. Friends show their true colors in times of weakness. The friends who disappointed you at this age, will keep disappointing. The friend who showed up at your house (almost) daily will eventually throw you a bachelorette party. (MSN messenger wasn’t a waste of time, your socially awkward self made lifelong friends thanks to it.)

You won’t always be shy, so you should shake that out of you now. Don’t second guess every move you make because you’re surrounded by rich kids. Their money means nothing. They’ll always have their nice things, but they’ll never go through those experiences that made you stronger than they will ever be in the future. A decade later, your life will be richer than many of theirs. And no, I am not referring to all the shiny things you’ll have.

You haven’t met “the one” yet. I know you’re convinced he’s that guy you were into at sixteen. But he’s not. The man you’ll marry is a godsend. He’s thoughtful, kind, smart as hell, and your love for him will be stronger than any emotion you’ll ever experience before him. You’ll fall in love with him so fast, you’ll convince yourself that he’s a figment of your imagination for a while.

Stop obsessing with the death of your mother, she’s a fighter; she always has been. I’m writing this a decade later, and she’s still fighting. The more you think about her dying, the worse your nightmares will get. Stop thinking about it, she’s a champion. You and your five siblings will always be the reason she’s in that boxing rink to begin with, and you’ll always be the reason she leaves a warrior. You’ll always see the universe in her eyes, and she’ll live in this world vicariously through yours. Her spirit will always live through the six of you.

There are many flaws you have that you don’t see yet, and you’re going to go through many experiences that will highlight them for you. You’re going to make many mistakes, but it’s fine. You’re going to hurt, but it’s fine. You’re going to break down, and have to build your life up with your bare scarred fingertips, but it’s fine. You’ll be glad you made those mistakes when you’re older. You’ll be glad when you come out a warrior one day, just like your mother.

Always speak your mind. You’ll never feel whole until you learn this.

Never stop writing- it’s the one thing that will always be there for you. You’ll have a year or two when you have a dry pen spell. It’s fine. Go back to it. It is your creative compass. It is the only way you can unleash your thoughts and grow. One day you’ll read your writing on stage. I know, it sounds terrifying to you. But one day, you’ll actually look forward to performing your poetry. One day, you’ll actively work towards it happening for you. One day, you’ll feel a world of spirits rushing through you, when you’re exhilarating your words into the cosmos.

Mom was right, if you don’t work on your posture you’re going to end up with a back problem. I know it sounds so “lame” but do it. It’ll save you many sleepless nights later. Sleep. Eat well. Take care of yourself. When you’re a teenager it seems that you can abuse your body and it’ll be fine. Sleep deprivation isn’t that big a deal, is it? No, you don’t just eat healthy to lose weight. Eat healthy to fuel your body with good energy. I know KFC is great, but trust me- at this rate you’re going to lose half your hair, have pimples, and fight to lose that excess weight.

Stop ignoring problems until they’re so much harder to fix. (Refer to the paragraph above.)

Don’t turn into a hoarder, it’s okay to throw away your notebooks from university. There’s a huge difference between being sentimental and being a hoarder. I know it’s hard to part with some of your “valued” possessions, but trust me, you’ll live.

Failure is good. Fail once, twice, thrice. Fail as many times as necessary. Failure is only truly failure if you give up afterwards. Everyone fails, just make sure your failures strengthen you for tomorrow. Focus your passion, that’s all you’ll ever need to succeed.

Mom isn’t crazy, your intuition matters. Follow it. Listen to it. Be connected to a sense of spirituality that you’re not physically aware of. It’s not “stupid” to be spiritual. It’s stupid to assume there is no higher power out there in the universe. Follow your heart. When you have a bad feeling about doing something; don’t do it. Trust me, this will save you from many awkward situations.

Don’t rush growing up. Embrace every moment at school and university. Embrace your growth period. No, you don’t need to rush and “get a job quickly”. It’s fine to be broke for a period of your life. You’ll grow to realize that even when you have the money to buy everything you want, you’ll come to the conclusion that it’s wiser to spend your money on experiences (travelling the world), than on things. Things break, your personal growth and happiness is always the best investment.

And lastly, please please stop dying your hair. It will never look as good as your natural hair color. Your genes built you up this way for a reason. Embrace it. Love it. Seriously. Please. You’re the reason i’m balding.
Voice

December 17th, 2016

She opened her eyes to once again reunite with a world that she feels alien in. She opened her eyes with a suffocating passion towards something she can not control. She opens her eyes to find all the doors she saw in her dreams closed shut.

Forcing her already wrinkled thirty year old face into a smile. This is how I’m going to look all day. She repeated to herself, forcing an even wider smile. She almost climbed out of bed without giving him a kiss.

She lifted the sand colored mattress to reveal a hidden creased photograph. Her grief-stricken eyes have studied this photograph so many times, endlessly. She can mentally draw it out, spec by spec. It was of a young boy, holding a kite that was half flying in the wind, and half on its way towards the ground. He was wearing a knitted sweater, decorated with holes. He didn’t seem to care that his kite was on it’s way down- his smile lit up the picture like a thousand suns. That smile set her heart on fire again, and she couldn’t let herself go there. After quickly giving the photo a kiss she placed it back under her mattress.

No. It has happened again. Here they come. She mentally fights a million wars within herself daily. Some days are better than others. She screamed, fueled by the momentum of his thousand suns. She begins gasping for air; and the more she gasps the more it hurts; the more she feels it the more it’s real; the more she tries the more she plummets down, down, and further down; into that hole she’s been living in.

There was nothing left to say, she has spoken out and yelled and fought. All words have lost all meaning. She can’t fight with them and prove that she belongs. She can’t prove her love and devotion to this land. She can’t say more than she already has. She wailed to let it out, feeling her heart stop vibrating altogether. There was no more left of her to give. He was all she had. He was the only family she had left, and he was electrocuted to death at the age of seven.
Life Lessons

March 12th, 2016

Life has taught me not to trust, and not to welcome. I was taught to shelter myself from everybody. To shield myself from even those who seem to be worthy. People wear masks and those masks only perish when it’s too late. When you’ve given all you can give, when parts of you are deeply invested and it’s hard to step away.

Life has taught me that only time peels off those layers, and disappointment always resides at the core of it all. At the core of all those smiles, all those stolen glances, all of those melodies that dance within. I have learned that I should just go by the book, that I shouldn’t hold hands with fate, and pray that she guides me with heed.

Life has also taught me that security only remains when I follow the rules, when I don’t give in to want and focus on this persistent need to keep my heart whole. Yet, sometimes I can’t help but think that I risk building desolate voids when it comes to Love. My heart has taught me that when it comes to Love I shouldn’t listen to Life because it either is, or it isn’t- because even if you end up crushed, it’s worth it- because growth only comes when you build yourself back up. So, I’ve been stuck. I’ve been obsoletely running back and forth unable to know which guide to follow. Then, you happened- and all of Life’s lessons somehow ended up residing in the back of my mind as mere insecurities.

Life has taught me many lessons, which I seem to have gladly thrown away for you. My brain tells me to heed Life- that my heart is stupid, and that my heart will break, but this attraction still persists. Your attraction exists within all of me. Everything about you is telling me that you’re right, so I’ve handed you myself whole. I’ve given you all that I am. The pulse in my veins feels like it is being cocooned by your tender hands, and guided through back to my heart.

Here I am, shoving Life’s persistence into a dark abyss, because my walls have shattered out of comprehension, because even though you haven’t promised me the world, you turned right around and handed me it anyway.
Qamar

May 1st, 2015

The first time the police drove me home I was eighteen years old. I couldn’t be at home anymore, I couldn’t breathe in that unswerving state. It didn’t matter how hard I inhaled, I was gasping empty breaths. I carried around a wrinkled old brown bag everywhere with me. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without it. It was an extension to my being. The more wrinkled that bag got, the more I realized that this isn’t it for me. That’s when it all started. That’s when I realized I couldn’t live that life anymore. The way I saw it, I was living in a small cave in an undiscovered mountain in a far corner in the world. I had no contact with the outside world, the only places I saw were the ones I read and dreamt about. There are still two parts to who I am. There is the voice inside my head that whispered in my ear, telling me I need to run, and then there is the exhausting good girl in me that tells me I have to be patient, because patience is the only virtue that will allow me to keep existing. At the time, I knew life had more to offer. I knew it was impossible that all the women of the world lived like this. I knew that I had some strength in me, despite the years he spent dedicating his time to overpower me. Despite the years he spent teaching me nothing but diligence.

The three meals I cooked daily were the staples that dictated what I could do. I was only allowed to cook and clean in between meals. On a bad day when his sloppiness conquered the house and lunch was a little late, a bruise would blaze my supple skin. The only time I had to myself was when I went to take a bath and even then, if I took longer than expected the door would burst open and I would be pinned down for my time of judgement. I remember going for my usual “bath”, which actually just consisted of a quick shower, wiping down the bathtub and rolling my books out of the towels I had allocated in the corner under the sink. I memorized those books cover to cover, but they were still as exciting to read as they were the first time I picked them up.

I knew if I didn’t do it that day, those smothering cave walls were all I was ever going to see. All I had to do was wait for him to fall asleep and only then I could finally do it. Breathe. I could finally breathe. It’s all I ever wanted. I just wanted to tear that bag into shreds and surrender to my own will.

As soon as I heard his frail snores, I grabbed my empty wallet and took my first real step. I looked at the brown bag, threw it under the bathroom sink next to the stack of my veiled books and took my last solid lungful. Every step I took until the age of eighteen was fixed. It was watched. It was planned. This is the first time I had taken a real decision. My own real decision.

I couldn’t believe that I had managed to build up the courage to tread outside of the house without consent. My whole body was shaking with fear.

Don’t look back. Don’t think twice. Don’t talk yourself out of this. Don’t. Don’t. Just don’t.

I unlocked the kitchen door, with the key I hid a week before, as quickly and quietly as possible. As soon as the wind touched my virgin skin, there I was in the welcoming warmth of the world.
Blood

December 1st, 2014

“And in threes they pour.” She whispered and kissed his parted, still lips with her eyes wide open. She couldn’t close her eyes- not yet.

“I have always been a normal person, you already know this baby. I mean- I had an ordinary childhood given to me by ordinary parents in our ordinary humbug small desert country. It was completely normal to be married off at the age of eighteen to a twenty-one year old I have never met. You know that baba preapproved our marriage before I was even told about you? I mean, you weren’t so bad. It is all me. Sager, baby, I’m not blaming you. I just need to explain before it’s too late.” She smiled. “I love you, baby.”

“I have always been one of those who envy people with all their freedoms. You know? All their decisions are actually theirs to make. All their mistakes are actually all lessons learned because nobody else had a hand in altering their life choices. Oh, how nice that must be for them! Going into my marriage with you, Sager, I was swept off my feet with all the glam you offered! I mean, you gave me thousands of dinars, you bought me all these glamorous things, you gave me the wedding of the century. And to an eighteen year old? That was good enough. That was as good as it was ever going to get. And on the plus side? It was going to make baba and mama very happy. They really wanted this. They really wanted us to happen. And I was told I would fall for you later. That the beautiful love that I dreamt about would still happen, but after marriage. That that swept off your feet, madly-in-love-with-someone feeling would come, eventually. And it did. Sometimes I think I hit the jackpot with you, that this was as good as it could have ever been for me. I did love you. Not in a boring arranged marriage father-of-my-child type of way. No, I actually genuinely loved you. I loved us.

Isn’t it ironic?” A tear rolled down her cold cheek, “I remember back in the day, when my biggest problem was that baba didn’t let me go to my best friends house.” She started laughing hysterically, “remember the fights I told you about? All the fights I had to have to finally pry my freedom from baba’s now wrinkled old hands. I sprouted so many lies just to be able to be free! But I never was!” She was now stuck in a haze between laughter and sadness; she had no clue how to feel or how to be. “So when our mothers got together and decided we would make a good couple, I thought that maybe you would be my way out! There’s more irony for you, I never told you this but I just agreed to your marriage proposal because I needed an out from being under baba’s microscope.”

“I got rid of one shackle and got a nice new shiny one when I married you. Despite your controlling nature I still loved you, but I guess it was obvious that would eventually come to a steaming halt. I’m mentioning all of this to show you that I regret nothing. I don’t regret marrying you, because hey, you were a good man. I don’t regret lying to you, or to him.” She laughed, wiping her tears away with his blood stained clothes.

“But now- I am at a crossroads.

Now, tomorrow doesn’t exist,

Today doesn’t exist.

They no longer are,

Not for me.

Even I, with my flesh, and my skin, and my hair, and my breath- I don’t exist.

I don’t love

I don’t bleed

I don’t miss

anything.

anyone.

I don’t miss you. Not yet.”

She looked down at the blood still gushing out of him, smiled and continued, “Even I, with all the minutes I have dedicated to your touch, with all the centuries I would have given had they been mine to give. Even I,

I don’t believe in anything

I don’t believe in you,

or I,

or us,

or anyone.

Even I, with all the love I have for you. Even I, with all the love I had for you.

I no longer exist.” She licked some of his blood, and put her face gently by his chest for the last time, feeling his now cool body. “And in threes they pour,” she whispered again and continued to laugh.

“You drove me to this. This is your fault. You should have known better, baby.” She kissed his still parted lips again, “you know I’d do anything for my freedom.”

She closed her eyes and dialed those three numbers- “I killed him!” she laughed, and hung up the phone. “Now we wait, honey.” She inhaled the last of his comfortable scent until they came to take away any little bit of freedom she may have ever had. “I love you. But I have no regrets- I am now free!”
Unconditional

June 14th, 2014

As your hair slowly grays year by year, I still succumb to your will.
My will is anything but my own.
I succumb to the will of time and I am left tortured, stuck, obsolete, and immovable.
I am left with nothing but my love for you.

I am the ruins that somehow manage to keep your perfectly painted mansion afloat.
I am the rusty nails that keep your wheels rolling.
You guide me and you shove me back and forth, without thinking to take my consent.
But had you asked me for it I would gladly remain attached to you.
I would glimmer at the mere thought of the glory of being your shield in the war that you’re living.

I have given you the best gift of all, a gift you will never learn to appreciate through no fault of your own.
How can you even show appreciation when you can no longer speak?

I have given you my time and my love and You?
You have taken my life.
I have gladly handed you my life and it is in the palm of your paralyzed hands.

I can’t even think of trying to break apart from you because you and I have now become one.
I was born of your flesh, but now time has sewn our bodies together.
We have become a quilt made of two broken souls, lost and unguided.

I do not believe in fate, but I know that since my very first breath this has been my purpose.
You are the reason behind every smile on my face.
You are the reason behind my every in and exhale.

You have brought me here to love you, mother.
To care for you, mother.
You have brought me here to provide the unconditional love you couldn’t give to your children, mother.
You have brought me here to fight your battles.
And mom, I will never fail you.
“War is peace; Freedom is slavery; Ignorance is strength”

March 14th, 2014

By Quamer Al-Mumin and Hawra’a Khalfan.

This short story was written as a Writing Club collaboration project between Quamer Al-Mumin (also known as Watzhername), and I. We chose a famous quote and applied it to feminism and Kuwait in our own way. The bold parts of the short story are written by yours truly, and the rest is written by Quamer.

War is peace.

“Abu Osman, trust me on this- people implode when you control them. It is only human nature,” her mother pleaded as she watched her husband explode with rage. I can’t believe this, I can’t believe this. I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE THIS. Is he actually putting up a fight? Seriously? There is no logic behind anything he is saying. What does he mean women shouldn’t drive? ALL women shouldn’t drive? Yeah. Sure. Like he would be where he is without the women in his life. He is a fucking tyrant. All I want to do is depend on myself. All I want to do is be able to take my life into my own hands. He of all people should realize that. Aggravating little shitty tyrant.

“Baba, this isn’t fair” I looked at him as my eyes filled with tears. “Osman turned eighteen last week and he already has his drivers license? What reasons are there that I as a twenty-one year old can’t drive, but Osman can?”

Her father looked at her tearful eyes, the wrinkles on his face got deeper and deeper as his snarky smile erupted. “Because your father said so. Osman is now a man and doesn’t need me to show him right from wrong. But you? You will always need my guidance.”

Her mother stepped in, she was starting to get angry but knows better than to raise her voice to Abu Osman. “Honey, just listen to her reasons for wanting to drive. I am advising you to let her do this because people do not take kindly to being restrained. Trust me on this. Trust me, please. Trust me for her sake.”

“I have told you a million times, Um Osman! I will not change my mind. This human nature you speak of doesn’t apply to Shurooq. We have raised her well, she has never disobeyed me, what makes you think that she will start at the age of twenty one?”

Um Osman closed her eyes, she knew exactly what he would say but she hoped that for an instant he would take in her words and truly listen to them.

This isn’t over. “Baba. Can you please just give me a reason as to why I shouldn’t drive? Just convince me? And ‘because I said so’ just isn’t a good enough reason for me, please Baba.” I pulled down my bottom lip as far as it would go and widened my eyes to look up at him.

“Well, for starters- how will I know where you are at every moment?” He gave a disapproving look. “You think I will let my daughter out in the streets ALONE?!”

“You know Baba, I can always send you a whatsapp location of wherever I am? There is no other way to send the location other than from the spot you’re in!” I lied. Finally, dad’s technologically challenged self is good for something!

“Men will still harass you in the streets, what will you do then?”

“Erm, well- I can call you or Osman to come bail me out of these situations because there is absolutely no way I can fend for myself.”

“Okay but you are a girl, you’ll definitely have many car accidents, what then?”

“Yeah I know I know, we’re terrible, but! How about you get the car fully insured and you won’t have to pay a fils to fix it???” Having to be a misogynist just to be able to get a little freedom around here, the irony.

“Shurooq I want you to have all these nice things your friends have, but the only time a girl can start calling herself a woman is when she is married with children. I think it would be better if you didn’t drive yet because who will marry a girl who has this much freedom?” He looked at me with a face full of worry. “Girls with freedom never become women because they are never chosen to be wives. What will happen to you then?”

Holy shit that escalated quickly! “Baba, I know that’s way too much freedom, and I am so thankful for it. I assure you, times have changed and a female driver isn’t a bad thing. It shows strength, and stuff.”

“And stuff? What stuff?”

“Well, you know, I’ll be capable of driving my six children to school and back. You know! Stuff!”

He smiled. “You never fail to make me smile, Monkey!” Monkey? That’s new. “I will think more about this problem you have, and will tell you my decision when I have one.”

Problem I have? That’s rich. Don’t get my license and it’ll be a problem YOU have. “Thank you, Baba! That’s all I wanted from you!”

Freedom is Slavery.

The silver gleamed brightly against the light of my room as he held the keys in front of my eager eyes. “You want them?” He asked, knowing the answer. I nodded my head, but kept my mouth shut in fear of saying something that might change his mind. I was scared that even an uneven breath would trigger something that would make him pull away the keys. “You have never disobeyed me before, this should not encourage you to start disobeying me now.” Nod. “This car is a privilege and not a right.” Nod. “You may drive, but under a few circumstances.” Pause. Nod.

“The circumstances are as follows, the sun goes down, your car must be already in the garage.”

Fair enough, better than not driving at all. There were plenty of fun places to go in the morning and afternoon anyways.

“I will have your car shaded to the maximum legal shade so that you will not attract the attention.”

I wanted to drive to places and back, I never thought of driving as a way to seek attention. But now that I think about it, it’s the perfect opportunity to check out what all the fuss ‘gizzing’ is about!

“No, and I mean absolutely no, music while driving. It will distract you and will summon the devil. There are enough devils already out there driving around, you do not need one in the car!”

Now that’s just pathetic. But, whatever.

“You are only allowed to look ahead of you, if you really need to look at your side view mirrors, you have exactly half a second to do so, there might be a boy next to you who will assume you are staring at him.”

And I swear to God he actually shivered towards the end of that sentence.

“Does that sound fair to you?”

Nod.

Obviously I wasn’t going to complain, I’ve been waiting for this moment for three years. I was not going to ruin it for myself now.

“Ah yes, and one last thing. I hired a new nanny who will be your driving companion. You are not allowed to go anywhere without her. If you are in your classes she will wait outside for you. I will be calling her every hour to make sure you are near her and safe.”

My eyes widened for about a nanosecond, but I quickly inhaled and forced a smile on my face. “Of course Baba, anything you say Baba.” I could probably pay this ‘driving companion’ to go off somewhere and leave me be. How embarrassing would it be walking around at my age in university with a nanny at my foot.

“Good girl, now take these keys and be very careful.” He carefully lowered the keys into my now sweaty palms, smiled at me confidently, and walked out of my room. I finally exhaled and sat on my bed, my eyes glued to the beautiful key to freedom at last. Of at least the closest to freedom I’ll ever have.

Ignorance is Strength.

It’s been a few months since Shurooq started driving, she followed all the rules religiously and everything was going according to plan. She managed to gain her father’s trust and confidence, while proving to him that driving did not change her life as drastically as he had expected. If anything, it has made his life easier by not having to waste his time driving me back and forth. Tonight, everything was going to change. She mentally prepared for the worst, but expected the best. I’m going to take this risk. Instead of having to explain to explain to her father that it is her friend Sarah’s birthday party, she is just going to throw a few white lies his way. A mixed birthday party. All I had to do was convince my dad that I had to go to a tutoring session at university and that would buy me about two hours of freedom past sunset. More than enough to dance with a handsome stranger. I saved up quite a bit of cash to pay off my driving companion, dropping her off at the souq on my way to the party. Flawless plan! Nothing can go wrong.

Abu Osman was watching the season finale of Arabs Got Talent as he rocked back and forth in disbelief that his favorite person on the show just got voted out. Arab’s Got Talent was his one and only guilty pleasure and he invested a lot of time and energy rooting for the contestants.

“Babaaaaaaaa,” Shurooq innocently smiled at her dad with her eyes wide open. “I’m going to be a little late at university today, don’t forget!” He brushed her off as he motioned for her to be quiet. She took this as a good sign and tip toed out of the house, Marie, her nanny was already waiting for her in the car with the engine running.

“Marie, don’t forget! Keep watching your phone in case anything happens. If Baba calls- don’t answer the phone and call me as soon as he hangs up and I will pick you up. I will only be gone for two hours so be at the door waiting for me at exactly 8pm. OK??”

Everything went smoothly for Shurooq that night, she met a handsome stranger named Qutaiba who turned out to be a terrible dancer, but she couldn’t care less because at that moment in her life she knew that she could do whatever she wanted, and her family’s ignorance would be her bliss.
Noah

January 19th, 2014

You will find it here, and when you see it beside this piece of paper your instinct will tell you to check for a pulse. There won’t be a pulse. You will realize that quickly but you will still reach in and try to find one. Your next instinct will be that of any other “civilized” human being. Like clockwork you will call the government officials to come and rid world of it. This letter will make it easier for them. This letter will do their job for them.

Nobody will claim it. Nobody will even know the name of the person who lived in the shell that was left behind.

Nobody will realize that I am gone. I haven’t made a difference. I am nobody, and this nobody has done nothing.

I am pouring all my thoughts at this very moment on this piece of paper because I want to have one last human interaction. Ironically, this human interaction will take place after I am gone. I still want to show the world how it feels. I still want to share it all with somebody. I want to tell them why. I want to tell them why.

In movies, or television shows, or even in books- the note that is left behind normally just reeks of regret. I regret nothing. I merely have an explanation. This, is why;

I have a name, but not even the people I work with know it. I am Noah. Noah, the unsettling man who lives in the basement under the lobby at the Scythe Motel. Noah, the man who will not be forgotten, as he was never remembered. I am Noah, and I am forty-nine years old.

I am Noah, a forty-nine year old man who had many dreams. I am Noah, the forty-nine year old man who managed to shatter any flicker of hope he ever had.

This body I leave behind will burden you, and for that I apologize. I have never stopped to ask your name, valued janitor. Nevertheless, you and I will have had the most human connection of all. You and I will have shared Death.

Nobody will claim this body or come to it’s funeral. I feel as though I should put down my reasons and last thoughts on this paper as I have never dared to share myself with another, before this.

You see, I was going to be an English teacher, yet the world moved on a pace different than mine. I knew I had everything it takes to become the teacher I wanted to be. I wanted to make a difference, but that was not in my fate. Stating that I merely wanted it, is not good enough on it’s own. But I did- I wanted all of it.

The funny thing about goals is that if you loose track of your most important one, it is nothing but a downwards spiral from there. I ended up working as a security guard in a school nearby, and that is how I met Marrian. Marrian grew and sold wheat grass down on a farm with her mother, and every Saturday she would come to the school and drop off some wheatgrass for the upcoming week to be used in the cafeteria. Marrian was a godsend. She was it- the woman of my dreams and I was convinced that I would never find another woman who was as kind, or beautiful. She was a simple girl but had the most infuriating sense of humor (which was my favorite thing about her). I wish I told her. I wish I told her. I wish I told her of my love for her, but wishes don’t mean a thing anymore, and this is not a letter of regret. This will not be turned into a letter of regret but of hope.

Marrian, you have been gone a long time, but I will join you now. I have thought of you so often. There is never a moment when you are not on my mind. There is never a moment when what we could have been was not on my mind.

I don’t remember much after Marrian’s death, the routine was slowly attacking my brain cells one by one and I went with it. I did not want to think of anything but her. I could not think of anything but her.

I later found myself working at a place much like a slaughterhouse. My job was to announce which ‘fresh meat’ was going to come up on stage. I was told that the women I work with are beautiful, but I could not see their beauty. I constantly looked for it- but all these men came to the slaughterhouse and left it reeking of fresh meat. I could not see beyond the actions of these men and women to be able to take in their physical beauty. I did not understand the whole system, I merely went there to be able to make money, and to survive.

Survival was important to me, and I have survived long enough. How marvelous is it how much a human being can change given some time?

Today, I can say that I am a man who has been dying slowly for twelve years. I will no longer waste oxygen. I will rid you all of me. Today, I can happily say;

I am gone.
But Daddy I Love Him

December 14th, 2013

She looks up at the Grey skies and wishes upon a cloud.

Her mind shuffles through memories of her throughout the years wishing upon multiple stars, she had wished on those spheres of fire with such belief that they would somehow align and help one of her dreams come true. But now she has retired from these useless fire breathing rocks- she knows better than to repeat that series of mistakes again. It took years for her to give up on those stars, and now the clouds are her allies.

The clouds will make her dreams come true. All she wants to do is speak to him one last time.

I miss him- she told the depressingly dark water vapor which seemed to be hovering over her everywhere she went. I wish he hadn’t gone. I wish he was here. I want him to be here. I want to feel his skin. Raincloud, do you hear me? I know it isn’t possible to bring back the remnants of him. Is he nearby? To her utter astonishment the clouds responded instantly and cried with her. They wept and wept and the droplets that seeped from the skies hugged every surface on her body. She felt the warmth of a mothers embrace oozing through her pores. He is nearby, isn’t he? I can feel his presence, the timeless satisfactory tyranny of his very being near mine. The darkness bleeds one raindrop of hope at a time for her, and every drop is bliss. This cloud, is he above? Is he touching me through this rain? Or am I trapped within an illusion of his exquisite downpour?

She sat as still as a statue, mourning the death of them. The unrealistic notion of what they would have been.

She looked up at her new group of faint supporters.

I would have fought for us.

I saw us

Years from now

I saw our life

I thought we would be.

I thought we would live

side by side.

I would have fought for us.

Run miles

Climbed mountains

and all those other ridiculous

love struck promises.

I would have fought for us

I would have had that ridiculous

“But daddy I love him” fight

for you.

I would have singled out my family

I would have given it all

to you

unconditionally.

I miss you.
Smoke

December 1st, 2013

As soon as I opened the car door, the crisp, dry, cold air slapped my face—triggering me to stand frozen in my place.

“Thanks!” I forced a smile, waving goodbye to the cab driver as I stood outside the yellow car.

Everything around me was covered in white, and at that moment time did not exist. The only thing that existed is the amount of steps it would take for me to walk indoors. Oh! How I love the way the snowflakes sparkle from afar. I locked my eyes on my target as I took a deep breath of callous oxygen. There it is, the blue building filled with an infinite number of Angels of Death. There it is, the blue building filled with sorrow and regret, where loathing and unconditional love finally meet in an equilibrium.

I took my time while making my way to those haunted E.R. doors, trying to prolong the inevitable. Despite the gloomy atmosphere here, and in every other one of it’s kind, the smell is what makes it desolate. The smell that took over huge chunks of my life, the smell that left holes of worry in my heart, the smell that acts as a cloud of suffocating smoke which enters my lungs and reminds every atom in my body that things will never get any better than this. Finally, I walked into the hospital doors and the smell slapped me harder than the icy wind had. The cold, for that brief moment, was my safe haven from my broken reality. Finally, when I had no reason to enter this blue building any longer, this smell enveloped my whole life and wherever I went, it was in a hue of smoke around me, making it impossible to move on.

The warmth in the hospital hallway had started to make me uneasy and I started considering running back to the welcoming cold. I turned my neck slowly to be able to take in all the faces around me. All of them had the same look in their eyes; they looked as terrified as I felt. All of these people ended up in the same place on the same day at the same time; all of them had something unfortunate happening in their lives.

“They were all afraid of being in my shoes,” I whispered to myself.

As the thought stormed into my mind like an avalanche, I grew more aware of the mountain of tears that was about to erupt onto my cheeks. I will not cry. I will not give anybody something to look at. I will hold it all back. I. will. not. cry. I started envisioning the same cloud that holds me tight, gripping them as it does me; from every angle. I no longer inhale oxygen as I have given myself fully to my new restraint. The simplest task such as taking another step forward or merely pressing the elevator button vacuumed all of my energy away- I knew what was waiting for me on the other side. I know of the sorrow that awaits; the grief that will soon unveil itself the second I walk into that room. I know the hardship I will have to face; the regret I will feel for the moments I can no longer change.

I know what is to come.

I made my way to the room, taking the smallest steps possible towards the moment I will not forget for the rest of my life. It isn’t true unless I see it. The doctor got a glimpse of me and rushed toward me with her arms ready to hold mine.

“We did everything we could.”

“I know.”