Traveling alone...

It's terrifying to which point we are alone... even when we are with hundreds of people, even if we have family, friends, lovers, kids around us... we are still alone!

We come to this world as strangers, we leave it as strangers. 

We have our secret thoughts, our secret feelings and all those moments that we tacitly promised ourselves to forget and not to tell anybody about... nobody really knows us, even those who love us they don't love "US", they love the idea they have about us, they love what we represent inside them or how they imagine us to be, that's why whenever something happens to shake that image they realize we are not the same, and the love fades away. 

Sometimes they leave, sometimes they stay because they are afraid of loneliness, because they need us for some reason, or because we need them. 

The same thing applies to us, we don't love people, we love that space we dedicate in us to them.

In conclusion, there is no "true" or "real" love, there is only one true love in life... the love we have for ourselves, because in the end everybody is just a part of us!

I look around at people and i wonder; is it only me or everybody else happens to feel this way sometimes? is it only me or everybody else at very strange moments think the same way?

Of course I am not talking about living alone or travelling alone or any of those habitual random things that we might do on our own. I am talking about the inner self, about our internal world; the world we have inside our hearts and minds.

I am sure that every human in this world has his own universe inside himself, a unique universe that involves his dreams, hopes, memories, desires, thoughts, feelings, imagination, even his hallucinations and obsessions.

It might be only me... yet again... it's only a part from my universe.

Frovers...

They were there; two old lovers who agreed to stay friends… but they were not friends, they were not lovers, they were not strangers, they were two people who shared that sparkle in the eyes and that conviction that it could never work…  

it hurts a little bit, but it exposed them a little bit too, somehow they created out of a dead relation a new thing, a new connection… there was no tension, and no bad feelings, they wished each other nothing but the best and all the happiness… they started as two extremes; she was sure about everything and he was not sure about anything and they left each other somewhere in the middle…

The pain was forgotten, the love was forgotten and all that was left is nice feelings with a touch of sadness…

It would have been perfect if there was nothing else in life except love…

It would have been perfect if they could share the same vision…

It would have been perfect if they had the same dream…

It would have been perfect if there was nobody except them…

It would have been perfect if they had a converging understanding of life…

It would have been perfect if…

It would have been perfect if…

It would have been perfect if there was no IF!!!

The Wind

She was the wind, and he loved her. He did not care if the winds change her temper so fast, if her heart flies to someone else in days… he embraced the breeze of hers, he stood in the storm suffered in silent but was there standing straight as a mountain… she said: don’t try to retain me because I’m the wind, if I feel pressure I will storm away.  He said: I won’t I will run with the wind, I will fly with the wind… she smiled and doubted what he said…

Her heart was confused, her mind even more, but he was sure, to his bones he was sure… she did not believe in love, and his faith was Love… she thought he is delusional and he thought she is lost and he will help her find the way to love and peace… two strangers met one day in the middle of a rough road, he took her hand because he thought he could help her out of the troubling sea… she gave him her hand because she was blind and could not see… she heard his words but did not believe any... he understood and said it was normal, and in his heart he believed that one day he will gain her trust… she said: you crazy fool, I used to believe like you, I used to trust like you and I woke up one day crushed under the wheels of a real harsh world, he smiled and said: it is not real, I came to you to prove that your old beliefs are not illusions and love is not a sweet dream that ends with the painful realization of reality, love is real, like the wind it is real, she smiled but her doubts were still there…

She was grateful for his patience and thought it was useless… one day he will stop believing, one day he will get tired of the wind and he will look for steady home… but she was wrong because his love was strong and his faith was bigger than her doubts…

Days flew between her craziness and his patience, between her doubts and his belief, between the storms of the winter and the impatient wait for spring… and with the first blooming rose, the garden of her heart blossomed and the first rose was “I love you”.

home is where the heart is...

Lots of people might not understand what we go through, we have a serious identity trouble, when you identify yourself by multiple identities, at some point you get lost and you can’t tell for sure who you are!! And this is what we are living now…

In our childhood we learn how to love, and worship Palestine, they teach us that there is no other home, there is no better home, and we should never accept another home… later, we find out that we may have that one home but without any proof, we find out –like a horrible shock- that our holy home is not recognized internationally, that our home is just in our hearts, we have no rights, no papers, and that being identified as Palestinian gets us in lots of troubles… we discover that our love is a crime!! And a simple identification is a serious accusation.

So we start looking for a “temporary” home, a “home” that can be more practical for us, just to live as any other person in the world and have rights without being charged for a nationality!! Then we might live in a new “home” where we can get better standards of life. And just like that, we find ourselves belonging to many homelands, but somewhere deep inside us that young believing child screams there is only one home, he manages somehow to make us feel guilty for every time we answer the question “where are you from?” with any answer other than Palestine.

As I said, lots of people do not really understand what we go through, and how serious this is to us, but no matter where I go, when I meet a Palestinian I can see that lost child in his eyes, I can see that special union that we have, I can see even with all the different “homes” that holy love, and that deep wound.

Yes, most of them do not understand, and may never do, they may never understand that wound, and how it can be so deep that where ever we go, whatever the size of success we might achieve there will always be a touch of sadness in us, we might be happy, we might find everything we wish for, but she will always be there, looking at us, looking through us, looking from us, and at certain point we will discover that we’re doomed.

Yes lots of people do not understand why… it’s like the way we’re connected to our parents. When they mess us up, we’ll be messed up always.

Love? Oh yes we’re in a big, awesome love, love that burns us slowly, that consumes us and leaves us hopeless for any other love!!

Nobody can understand for real what pain we go through when someone says I’ve been there… or do you know Israel? Or do you know this or that… the silliest and most Machiavellian question I’ve ever been asked: if I knew Jerusalem!!! And who asks one of those who stole my home!! 

I wondered for a second in what world am I living!! My mind was screaming "SERIOUSLY!!!!!!!" 

But my lips smiled, a smile only someone like me would understand, I replied "yes, yes I know her"; 

I do not know if the guy knew from where I am, but as if he wanted to get the knife deeper in my fresh-old wound and asked "have you ever been there?" 

I felt my tears pressing behind my eyes, and my voice trembling, at that moment my mind did not make any reaction, I said "no". 

A brief, neutral, unfriendly No, then he finished me saying "well, you should it’s awesome!!"

I did not say anything I smiled that same smile, I changed the subject, and I rushed to my room.

I cried my eyes out that night, I was drunk with pain, and that hole inside my heart was getting bigger making me see it clearly: it will never heal!! I can never heal from that love!