Out of Words

I call myself a writer, but I'm out of words
How can a mortal man express the indescribable?
The paradise that you are and the heavens from whence you came,
Beautiful to glance at yet terrifying to behold?

As flawlessly beautiful as a starry automn night
Yet as vicious as a lightning storm and half as forgiving
As reassuringly warm as a mid-summer afternoon,
Then as bone-chilling as a late December blizzard
One might get fooled by your long warm summers
Or the playful, lazy springs that bloom in your eyes,
But not me, for I have seen the winters too
Hard and windy and ice-cold... Yet somehow stunning

I call myself a writer, but I'm out of words
How can a proud man reveal his addiction without seeming weak,
If a deaf man were to hear music for the first time,
Could he ever go back to being deaf again?
Would he ever be able to forget someone
As soothing, calm and relaxing as jazz
As energetic, powerful and raw as rock
As classy, methodical and harmonic as an orchestra
An orchestra of possibilities and endless longing?

I call myself a writer, but I'm out of words
How can any words I write ever give you justice?
How can any writer describe color to the blind?
For I have seen what no mortal man was meant to see
I have seen what it means to drown in eyes as deep as oceans,
As vast and incomprehensible as the corners of space,
As promising yet dangerous as a lush forest
With the colors to match all three

I have seen what it means to be as hard as steel with your beliefs
As proud and majestic as a lioness, roaring her defiance
With a determination so fiery it burns like a thousand suns,
Yet more modest and humble than anyone else would be

I call myself a writer, but I really am out of words,
If I sit down here to write about you, I will never be done
But always remember that no matter what happens,
As long as I breathe, I won't be deaf again.

Family

Family.

One simple word; a whole world of meaning behind it. I'd never learned just how important family was until I started living alone... Back in the day, I used to think that family only meant responsibility, and that made me skeptical about the point of it all. Being an entitled millenial teenager who'd been raised to believe that he was special and that he deserved only the best, I insinctively used to avoid any duties or tasks I was asked to do because I was too good for that. Let the workers and peasants worry about these things, for I was too important to care about anyone else. All that mattered was me. My only job was to use all the resources at my disposal to pamper myself and cater to my own needs and desires... Everyone else was just white noise.

The millenial teenager grew up to be a millenial adult, and even though I became considerably more mature, I still shirked responsibility whenever I felt I could get away with it. Sure, I'd help around the house every once in a while or run some errands, but if I didn't so what? Someone else would pick up the slack. There was no real reason for me to contribute because I didn't believe it made a big difference. Besides, I was still a super-important, entitled prick, and if my passiveness made anyone else's life any harder... Well, it was expected of them. Their lives came second.

Now, I'm sure I've done a great job of making you hate me so far, so you can understand how I felt about myself. Through being completely selfish and only caring about me, I came to have a very low opinion of myself. I used to see my dad finish work at 8, run a million errands, fix a leaky tap and do all the handiwork our parents' generation had to learn to do to survive, and I didn't understand how or why he did any of it. But these moments of contemplation were few and far between, because after all, that was his job. He was supposed to overwork himself to the point of exhaustion so that I could fulfill my destiny of being an entitled douche... And even though I was given complete freedom to do everything I wanted to do, I can't say I ever enjoyed it. I always felt like a waste of space, and I always hated myself for it.

Then, all of a sudden, that life was over. Practically overnight, I was plunged into a whirlpool I'd had no idea how to handle. I went from being spoiled and entitled to being completely responsible for my own well-being. Things I'd always taken for granted like laundry, home-cooked meals, having a clean home... If I didn't take care of these things, no one was there to do it for me anymore. Moreover, being sick or depressed suddenly became several orders of magnitude worse, now that there was no one to take care of me. I was completely alone, and it forced me to grow like nothing else could have.

The irony was that I started feeling guilty. The whole time I lived alone, I felt responsible for my family. I began to feel terrible for abandoning them to fend for themselves so I could pursue my career and live abroad. For 6 months, all I wanted to do was go back home and take care of them the way a real man is supposed to, to make up for all the years I leached off their efforts.

But you want to know what's funny? When I returned, everything came rushing back... My dad's relentless drive to be productive, even in his free time; my mom spoiling me again to the point where I'd have trouble living alone when I had to move away again a month later; and my amazing sister who not only reminded me how much I'd missed hanging out with my real best friend, but also how much I'm proud of the remarkable young woman she's shaping up to be, and how I feel like she's one of my biggest achievments in  life so far... And with a pang of bitter guilt, I realized that even though I came back with every intention of being there for them this time... They were the ones who were there for me yet again... Just by being there.

The biggest reason that makes me want to return to this dump of a country.

My family.

It's going to be a long 6 months.

A Note From Beyond

Dear everyone,

I hesitated a lot before writing this; but over the past few years, I've seen countless young, healthy people taken from us too soon... and in all of these cases, there was one thing that stood out to me; the single most tragic common factor in all of these premature deaths was the lack of closure. Here you have a young adult who's just starting their life, when suddenly they suffer an accident or an undiagnosed disease that plucks them too soon from this Earth, before they've had a chance to experience some of life's fundamental experiences or even say their goodbyes.

As narcissistic as this may sound; every time I heard of such tragedies, my own mortality came to mind... and every case made me vow that I wouldn't let my loved ones suffer on my account without at least trying to soothe their pain, and that my life wouldn't end with such an unceremonious fizzle. I am a writer after all, and in my mind, a writer deserves a poetic end.

With that in mind, I decided to sit down and write this "letter from beyond the grave", if you would pardon the cliche title... in the hope that one day after I'm gone, someone would stumble upon these words and show them to my loved ones to give them some small measure of comfort.

But how could I make sure that these words would be published in a medium where there is a decent chance of someone seeing them? If I posted them as a new blog post, several of my blog's followers would read them too soon, and it might be mistaken for a plea for help or attention... or worse, it could be mistaken for a suicide note, which I assure you it is not.

After due consideration, I decided to go back to one of my earlier blog posts, published in 2015. You see, if I edited the blog post and re-published it, none of my followers would get notified; and none but the most avid -or bored- of my stalkers would ever go so far back on my blog that they would stumble upon a blog post this old by accident. If you count yourself among that lucky number -and I am still alive- please stop reading. This is not a post I'd care to show anyone until the time is right, and I wouldn't be posting it at all if I could think of a better way to do this.

I guess that sufficiently explains my motives... and now for the hard part (and if you were ever close to me, you'd know how difficult it is for me to not make a "that's what she said" joke right now).

I must start with my family; my father, my mother and my little sister.

You are the reason I am who I am. You are the reason I always kept going. You are the reason I kept fighting, no matter how hard it got. You are the reason I never took the easy way out, no matter how much I wanted to. You spared no expense; gave me all you had and more. You were always there for me, even -nay, especially- in the most miserable times of my life. There is not one single good thing in my life that you were not the cause of, whether directly or indirectly. I love you all, more than words can say, and I am proud to have been able to call you my family... in fact, "proud" is an understatement in so many ways that I can't even say it without rolling my eyes, but suffice to say that I wouldn't have had it any other way. If I could go back in time and choose my family, I would choose you every time. You were the best family I could ever have asked for, and my gratitude and love for you knows no bounds... my only regret is that I know I wasn't always a great person to be around, and I'm sorry to have put you through all these hard times. I took you for granted a few times too many, and my short temper, dismissive attitude and lack of communication might have made you think that I didn't value or love you... but I assure you that I did and always will, no matter where I go. I'm just sorry I couldn't show it to you... and I know posting the words online is not the best way to do this, but it's the best I can do now. Please forgive me, and know that your presence in my life was so often the only thing that kept me sane and grounded.

I love you and I'm proud of every one of you. Thank you for giving my life meaning.

(Please read "Purgatory", "Family" and "Home- وطني " to see how highly I regarded you).

To the love of my life, there are no words to describe how much I loved, still love and always will love you. I don't know where we're at in life right now, or if we're even still in each others' lives, but I know one thing: you are the best thing that's ever happened to me. Even in my darkest, most desperate hour, you were always there to support me and help me through the tough spots, and your genuine care for my happiness and well-being is something I've hardly ever seen in anyone other than my immediate family. There's so much to praise about you, but I've done that in several other blogposts and you've read them all already... so I won't redo it here. All you need to know is that I never stopped loving you, and that if I could change one thing in my past, it would be not being with you years -or even decades- earlier than I was. I truly wish that we're still together... and if we're not, I sincerely wish we've managed to somehow stay in each others' lives, because going into that void without having you as my last thought is simply too much to bear.

No matter where I am, I will always love you. Thank you for giving my life purpose.

To my close friends... you know who you are; I won't cheapen this by listing names. All I can say is thank you. You were there for me through thick and thin, every single one of you. Whenever I went through a hard time, you would always take the time to talk to me and try to get me through it. You were able to tolerate my unpredictable, terrible mood swings and dark thoughts, and words cannot describe how grateful I am to have had you in my life. You know better than anyone how dark it can get inside my head... and I want you to know that more often than you think, you were the only candle in the charcoal abyss that is my mind. To me, you held the same status as my own family... and these next words go to you, to them and to my one true love as well; I want you all to know that you mattered; you made a difference. If you should ever feel nostalgic, lonely, depressed or sad, I want you to remember these words; you had a significant impact on my life, and no matter where I am, I love you for it and appreciate everything you've ever done for me... and I hope this thought gives you some relief. I'd been friends with most of you for a decade or more at the time I wrote this post, and we'd been through so many ups and downs together... but I can't stress enough how grateful I am to have had you there during the downs. I hope I made a positive impact on your lives as well, and if I didn't, I sincerely hope you'll forgive me and remember me fondly... I never meant to harm or hurt you, and would have never done it willingly in a million years, if I could help it.

Thank you for staying by my side, especially when I made it so difficult to. Thank you for giving my life a sense of direction and perspective.

To my other friends, please know that I'm grateful for everything. I'm finding it very difficult to not repeat myself in this blog post; I have used the word "grateful" too many times, but gratitude really is the one feeling that came to me as I wrote this. You might think I forgot that one act of kindness; that one late night talk in a parked car; that one spontaneous trip or that one Facebook chat heart-to-heart; but I want you to know that I always remembered every single one of them and I enjoyed every minute of it and would do it all again if I could.

Thank you for giving my life flavor.

To my casual acquaintances and everyone else, it was an honor and a privilege to have had you in my life. There is not one thing I regret, and I enjoyed all the experiences we've been through together... the good, the bad and the ugly. For better or worse, you shaped me as a person, and I want you to know that I never forgot anything we'd been through, no matter how trivial it might seem to you... and if we're not on good terms or you think I hate you, know that all is forgiven. My blessing -and my curse- has always been my empathy, and that I almost definitely know why you did what you did, and so there's no need to feel guilty. I understand... no hard feelings, at all.

On that note, I feel I must mention that I always strive to make a positive impact on the lives of those I meet, especially people I care about... and I want to take a moment to sincerely apologize to you if you feel I've hurt you in some way, whether we were close or not. Please find it in your heart to forgive me, and try to remember the good times; a person's legacy is all they have after they pass on... and while we're on the topic, I hope I at least made some of you smile over the years, or that my writing has helped you in some small way. If it has, I encourage you to share it far and wide so that it may help others as well. I don't want this blog to turn into a shrine for me; please don't feel like sharing any of my content will disturb my rest... if anything, it will make me smile, wherever I am.

If you're still feeling sad, please know this; you're the ones who made my time here bearable... and that is saying a lot. My unhappiness was sometimes all too clear for everyone to see, but even when it wasn't; there was often more of it hidden behind my smile. Even though I tried to be sarcastic about it; I tried to bury my feelings; I tried to express them creatively and I tried to make others laugh on
social media and in person, I could never fully get over the inherent, inexplicable sadness that is -for some reason- such a core part of my being. Some people may have thought I had everything in life, but the one thing I rarely had was peace of mind. I battled with clinical depression, anxiety and self-hate for most of my life, and you'd only need to go through some of my blog posts to know how dark things could get inside my head. I say this not to gain your sympathy; but rather to assure you that wherever I'm going is bound to be a better place than the dark, smothering confines of my mind.

And that is not to say that it was always that dark... in fact, quite a lot of you have given me countless moments of pure, uncut joy- and that in itself is both a miracle and something that I will always cherish and love you for, wherever I may be. Thank you for all the happy moments... they were so often what that got me through the hard times that usually followed.

I think that just about covers it.

Again, thank you all for having been in my life. In fact, thank you all for having been my whole life.

Please keep me in your thoughts, and don't be sad... for I will now -finally- rest in peace.

I hope.

With all my love; now and forever,
Mahmoud Bondok

Bondok is clinically Insane

Below is a conversation I had with myself on Twitter 2 months ago... just in case you were wondering whether I was actually insane or just acting like it. Yes, I tweeted all of this.

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- Seriously, I suddenly understand why teenage girls cut themselves and this isn't turning out to be a great statement in my favor, is it?

+ Yeah here we go again, make fun of yourself before people do it for you, we all know that always works out nicely

-  Well I do it because one of us had to watch our backs in high school when it was either that or being that weird kid everyone bullies…

+ It’s not high school anymore, there aren't any more bullies, you fucktard… Only people who won't respect you if you keep bringing yourself down for their enjoyment… kinda like we're doing now

- Don't turn this around on me, you fucker... where were you 6 years ago when we were still shaping our personality?

+ I was too busy being your rational anchor to the real world where you had to study and take things seriously to get into med school

-  WELL HA HA HA, MED SCHOOL WORKED OUT GREAT FOR US DIDN'T IT?

+  DON'T CAPSLOCK ME, YOU KNOW WE WOULDN'T BE HERE TODAY IF I HADN'T PUSHED YOU TO YOUR LIMITS

-  AND WHERE ARE WE NOW, PRAY TELL? DO WE FUCKING LIKE WHERE WE ARE NOW? ARE WE HAPPILY SHARING THIS SCHIZOPHRENIC MEMENTO OF OUR INSANITY?

+ DON'T BLAME ME FOR THAT, YOU HAD JUST AS BIG A SAY IN IT AS I DID

- BUT YOU'RE THE "RATIONAL SERIOUS" SIDE, WHY DON'T YOU SERIOUS OUR WAY OUT OF THIS PIT OF MISERY AND SELF-LOATHING?

+ Self-loathing, huh? So you actually do hate me...

- OF COURSE I FUCKING HATE YOU, AND YOU HATE ME TOO! WHAT'S THERE TO LIKE? I BET YOU CAN'T COUNT TWO THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT US

+ OK FINE, I HATE YOUR GUTS BUT WE HAVE TO LIVE TOGETHER IN THIS BODY FOR ABOUT 10 MORE YEARS UNTIL WE DECIDE TO END IT, SO SUCK IT UP

- Why 10 more years? There's a balcony not 10 feet away, and we're on the 17th floor…

+ OH NO, YOU DON'T... YOU WANNA DO IT BE MY GUEST, BUT I'M NOT GOING DOWN WITH YOU

- HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IT ALONE?

+ THEN DON'T FUCKING DO IT, WE'RE IN ENOUGH SHIT WITHOUT ADDING ETERNAL DAMNATION AND A GRIEVING FAMILY INTO THE MIX

- But if it wasn't for that, we'd do it right?

+ In a heartbeat. But jumping out of a balcony is stupid. We'd probably be better off with sleeping pills or something

- You fucking pussy, that shit's for girls

+ Well excuse me if I don't wanna look like a tomato someone ran over with their car

- You always did care about looks... maybe your high standards are the reason why we aren't having this lovely debate inside our own head, where we can't scare away people and probably get thrown in a mental asylum

+ High standards are the only reason why we have any self-respect...

- HAHAHAHAHA that's rich. Is that what they're calling it these days? Self-respect? Have we been self-respecting for the past half hour? Or is self-respect a synonym for "lonely as fuck"?

+ I can't talk to you like this. You keep dancing around the issue whenever get too close to the mark

- Fine, you want the truth? We're gonna die alone because of your high standards. Suck on that for a while...

+ Well I'd rather die alone than compromise my values and my pride.

- Good for you. Me, however, I'm perfectly happy with compromising stupid rules YOU made up to make us miserable

+ Look, I'm getting tired of arguing... we do this every day and we don't get anywhere. It's like having your mom inside your own head

- Fine, let's call it a day for now... but this isn't over

+ Yeah yeah, whatever. Gosh, do you think maybe we can try and go do something fun instead of driving ourselves literally insane? Seriously, this is past the point of being funny. I'm kinda getting worried now.

- Let's just go to bed so we don't regret it in the morning like we always do, thanks to SOMEONE who insists to stay up and think...

+ You know what? I'm not falling for the bait. Let's just go to bed.

- Fine. And if I catch you thinking for ONE SECOND, I will beat you to a fucking pulp because it’s the last thing we need right now. Got it?

+ Whatever

Oasis

I've always hated the sun.

It's ironic that of all places, I was born in Egypt where the sun is an unwanted constant companion. It's that annoying acquaintance you have who keeps insisting that you're best friends and tries to say "us" a lot in any context to put himself in the same league as you for his own weird personal agenda, or that persistent but not-so-bright girl who just won't get it and keeps trying to get with you even though the only way you could make it more clear that you're not interested is if you engraved the words "I DON'T LIKE YOU" on a bullet and shot her in the face with it.

I've always loved the London weather; gloomy, cold, dark and rainy... as moody and unpredictable as me. You know how people always say "be yourself"? Well you can bet London weather is being itself; it doesn't give the tiniest fuck about you or your plans or the arsenal of heavy swear words you will use when it starts raining randomly on a very sunny day in the middle of June... it just stays true to itself. I respect that. It shows strength of character, unlike the weak performance we see here in Egypt. It's like the weather lost its "Spring" and "Autumn (or Fall for y'all Americans)" DVDs and just keeps playing Summer and Winter all year and goes for a nap instead of doing it's job like a decent human being... but that's Egypt for you, even the weather doesn't do its job properly.

Even so, as these words passed through my exhausted, delirious brain, I would have given anything for a bit of Egyptian winter.

"One more step" I thought to myself, for what must have been the hundred thousandth time, but even as I thought it, I knew I was lying to myself. I lifted my head and scanned the horizons, and they were as dry and desolate as they'd been minutes ago, and as dry and desolate as they still would be when I eventually gave up, fell to my knees and surrendered to thirst and exhaustion. I hung my head again and focused on my own feet, slowly shuffling forward... it was better to not see how completely alone I was and how close I was to death.

I'd read somewhere that when you're lost in the desert -in the absence of any landmarks you can use to mark your progress- you unconsciously walk around in wide circles, because the muscles in your right leg (or left leg, if you're left-handed) are better developed and hence you will favor your right leg and walk to the left (or right) without even knowing it... in other words, I was even more screwed that I'd already been. Even if I were somehow capable of walking in a straight line, there was very little hope I would ever find my way out of that scorched hell... so imagine the progress I was making when I wasn't even moving forward at all.

The wind picked up. "Perfect, just what I needed" I thought to myself bitterly... a random shuffle of the sand dunes I'd been trying to memorize to mark my way forward... and sure enough, before I knew it a nice little sandstorm was brewing up to further obscure my vision and give me even less hope of ever finding my way out of that God-forsaken desert. Oh well... it's not like I could get any more fucked, right? I would have even welcomed the sound of any wild animals. An eagle, a fox, even a lion... anything that would indicate the presence of water anywhere in the vicinity... But alas, the only forms of life I'd run into so far were cacti, ants, beetles and the occasional snake.

I kept moving ahead, with no end in sight. The sun was directly overhead, beating down on my head mercilessly. I prayed for a heatstroke or a sunstroke... or any kind of stroke, really. Anything that would take me away from this terrible reality. The irony was that the sandstorm was partially blocking the sun, which was giving me a partial respite from its cruel gaze... but I think I would have rather taken my chances with the sun than the sandstorm... At least when it came to it, I'd be able to see the place where I died. At least I'd be able to choose the place where I'd finally give up and collapse. It was the tiniest bit of control possible, but still better than dying and being buried immediately by a vicious sandstorm and never being discovered for years.

The sandstorm raged on, getting more and more intense by the... by the what? Minute? Hour? I couldn't tell time anymore. The only thing I could say with a certainty is that it was still morning... but how long until dusk or how long I'd been stuck in that sandstorm, I had no clue. And it's not like dusk brought about any form of relief; I often laughed off the idea of finding shelter... there were no trees, no cliffs, no walls... nothing to shelter me from the wind, and whatever hell-spawn in this wasteland that cared enough to attack me here was welcome to do it. Frankly I felt sorry for whatever creature called this sandpit its home, and they were welcome to whatever fresh meat they could find, even my own. Besides, I didn't really care at that point. When I got too tired to move, I'd lie down wherever I stood and shiver myself to sleep in the freezing desert night until the sun woke me up again the next morning. If I were to not wake up, would that really have been so terrible?

The sky had shifted from yellow to brown now. I couldn't see my hand when I held it out in front of my face. My world smelled like dust and tasted like sand. Pain was my only reality, and thirst was a vulture, circling hungrily overhead as I grew steadily weaker and my steps began to falter. I stumbled and fell to one knee. Shakily, I got up again, only to get knocked on my back by a ferocious gust of wind. For a second I considered staying down, but my temper returned to me and I mentally reproached myself viciously. I wasn't going to die lying on my back. Furious, I got up and resumed my lonely trek. If only thirst were a tangible foe to confront... if only it were something I could fight,  lose to with dignity and die nobly.

I fell again. This time I couldn't find it in me to get up, but I could still crawl. Only one thought was in my head: "I'm not going to die lying on my back". It fueled me, and I moved forward. "One more step" I thought to myself, knowing in my heart that I was a liar. I was dying, and sooner rather than later. I crawled, and I crawled. At some point I tried to get up again, and successfully walked a few paces before collapsing and giving up on upright movement altogether. Before I knew it I was moving forward at the prone position, like a soldier avoiding enemy fire. But the enemy fire was all around me, and there was nothing more I could do. I could feel the first stages of delirium setting in. It was almost as if I could literally see light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, now that I thought about it, the light at the end of the tunnel looked suspiciously like the glint of sunlight on water. Could it be?

The sight gave me a last desperate surge of power. I got back on my feet, and I stumbled forward again. I walked in the vague direction of my vision, and sure enough I could see it again. I began to run... but running in the sand is a bad idea and I felt the last dregs of energy draining away... so I slowed my pace down to a walk again. I could see it now. If it was a mirage, it was a crueler mirage than anything I'd ever seen. As I neared what looked like a pond, I finally became certain...  I'd made it to an oasis. It was the most beautiful sight I could have ever seen... palm trees swaying in the sandstorm, green grass, even some desert hares that were taking shelter from the wind against the face of a small hill... But of course, I saw none of that. I saw my salvation. I jumped into the pond, opened my mouth wide and drank the sweet nectar of life. As the water flowed past my cracked lips and parched tongue, hot from the sun but more pleasant than anything I'd ever tasted in my life, watering my insides and filling me with the warm glow of hope... I smiled. At that moment, lying there in a stagnant pool of water in the middle of a desert, I felt hole, safe and sane again. At that moment, I knew life couldn't get more perfect.

I was saved. I wasn't going to die.


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Thank you for being my oasis.