To Fill My Void (Noha ElNashar, Visionaries)

To Fill My Void

I have gotten used to living behind smokes and mirrors; it was hard at first, but I have stopped complaining because when you come to think about it, there is nothing I can do anymore. I am not even a real person; I’m a ghost, a mere stranger residing the walls of your home and the whispers you hear at night. I am as alone as it can get, but I don’t mind. I turned into this long ago, so I guess it is okay. I got used to it. What I can’t get used to is the void, the void that grows everyday, the one that would soon turn into a black hole and swallow me only to spit me into nothingness.

Now, you might be questioning why I am stuck here and why I haven’t made peace and just got out of this cruel, unwelcoming world. Well, I have got unresolved business. I have got a family that is going to pieces because I am not with them; I have got friends that drift apart slowly as I watch by. I have got a girl whom I watch cry herself to sleep every night just so she can pay me an appropriate tribute. She thinks that by crying every night she is letting me know she remembers me. She is honoring me. And even though she is the only one that gets to communicate with me, she is the only one who has got it hard. I am a constant reminder of what she lost. At least I don’t constantly remind my parents and my friends of my absence; I give them space to let go, move on. But not her. I can’t. I know it is selfish but without her love I’m scared the void would just devour me. I need her, and that is the only thing I am sure about. This is the only thing that helps fill the void.

Every night, as I watch her sleep, I sing her a lullaby. I know she can’t hear me but I do it anyway. I would promise that I would tell her the next time I see her, but I always chicken out and never mention it. I’m usually too distracted by her presence to have the nerves to ruin the moment. I only get one day a month. I have only one day to hold her, to whisper in her ears, to wipe her tears for her. She has gotten used to wiping her own tears, so I make sure every time she is here that I am the one who wipes her tears. I want her to remember me, to never forget me. And maybe that is why I can see her , even if it is for one day. It makes all the loneliness and all the sadness go away. For once a month, everything seems worth it. Everything I go through here is worth seeing her for one more time.

Today is the day when she comes, the day when I get rejuvenated. And I can’t wait to see her and hear that beautiful laugh of hers. Even now that I am a ghost, I admit that she has a profound effect on me. I can’t escape it, and I’m not willing to. I hear her voice first, calling me. And I know I need to go get her before she wanders off and get lost like she did the first time she came here, but I choose to let her come to me, to let her feel my presence. So, I stay and wait for her. However, when she does come, I feel that something is terribly wrong. She is more illuminating now than ever. She sways her way into my star, which is where I live now: in the stars. And her smile is radiant, and she is giggling, but it all looks like a misty fog to me. My mind races as I try to ban the possibility that this has happened. Why would she do something like this? Maybe I should have let her go after all. This wouldn’t have happened if I did.

She stands still, smile intact, waiting for me to react to all this. Oh, she is going to get a reaction for this. I move to stand in front of her, my long legs helping me get to her quickly. I look into her hazel eyes, mesmerized because they have turned gold. The same color my own eyes turned into when I first came to the stars.

“Why would you do this, Becca?” I whisper as I tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ears.

She smiles, her eyes softening as they always do when she looks at me, and says,

“Because you are worth it, Julian.”

“No, I’m not.” I point out. “I am… no one is worth dying for. And I’m sure I am not an exception.”

“Yes, you are. You are all I want. I don’t want my life if you are not in it.” She takes my hand in hers and says, “This is my choice, Julian. I respected yours when you came here, to the stars instead of moving on. You should respect mine too.” She stops for a little while and then she murmurs, “I want to be with you. Forever.”

I feel my heart soaring in my chest, but I also can’t ignore the fact that she did this for me. It’s not fair. But something remains mysterious and I want to know the answer, so I ask, “How did you know that you would come to the stars? How did you know that you wouldn’t find peace and move on?”

She grins at me and runs a finger along my jaw line playfully, “Guess what, I have unresolved business.”

She pokes my nose and then turns to walk away from me, going to the edge of the star I currently inhabit. My guess is she wants to see the world as I have been seeing it since I died. When she came here, I would never let her out of my sight or out of my grasp. So, for her, this is her first time exploring the stars. I catch up to her and stand beside her, looking out at the million stars winking at us.

“This is not fair, you know. If you have told me you were thinking about committing suicide just so you can join me, I would have never allowed it.”

She looks at me out of the corner of her eyes and mumble, “Well, that explains why I didn’t tell you, doesn’t it?”

I shake my head in frustration, still unable to believe she is here. But I also can’t shake the feeling of extraordinary happiness that she is mine now. She is mine till the stars swallow us whole. Sensing my hesitation she slips her hands into mine and says, “Listen carefully. What do you hear?” 

I do as she says, but I hear nothing. “I don’t hear anything.” I chuckle.

“Exactly,” she beams. “There is nothing here but us. No difficulties, no struggles, no turmoil.” She pauses for a second then says, “Let the course of true love run smooth for once.”

So I let it.

The Last Letter (Nora Keshk, Visionaries)

The Last Letter

It had been thirty-three days since Logan had passed away, and fifty-two days since Jamie watched him abandon the paper she now held in her hand.

Jay Bug,
I've lost count of the days since the doctors told me that I have cancer; I'm fighting a battle that I'll never win. If you're reading this, then the fight is over. I'm gone. But please don't think I didn't give it my best shot.
If feels kind of weird to be sitting here writing this, when I could walk twenty steps down the hallway, take you in my arms, and tell you everything I want to say. But you know I'm no good with words; I stutter and stumble all the time, and never say what I really want to. In a few months, after I'm gone, you can take this letter out and read it over and over again, and know just how much I loved you.
I fell for you the very first time I saw you with the silly hat perched on the top of your head, and the only safety net that was capable of catching me was your arms. I had no idea what I was thinking about when I left that note on your car; I wasn't thinking straight, all I knew was that I needed to see you again.
Do you remember our first date? It was what I'd call a beautiful disaster – you were beautiful, I was a disaster – but somehow it worked out.
These past months we've lived together have been the best months of my life, and I suppose that's what counts because they're also my last months. If I could spend a bit longer with you, I would. I would stay forever. There's only one comfort that comes from this, and that is when I told you that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, you know I meant it; I just never expected it to end so soon.
There are so many things that we haven't done yet, too many things to write here; things I never knew I wanted till I met you.
Jamie, I'm sorry I can't fight this anymore, sorry that I can't stick around any longer and sorry that we couldn't grow old together. If my love to you could save me, I'd live forever.
You'll move on with your life and love again; don't put your life on hold to grieve for me.
There's so much more I want to say, but I don't have long enough to write it all down; all I really want is to hold you and dance with you at least one last time. When it happens, I know our last dance will be as beautiful as our first one.
We have shared a love story, not quite a fairy tale, but it's been my favorite love story by far.
- Logan

She wanted to read it over and over again, but she couldn't; her tears were like tsunami tides threatening to wash the words away, like the inhabitants of some small island.

My fats (Yara Elboghdady, Divergent)

Hey fats,
Guess society hasn't been kind to you again, neither the personal mind unfortunately. But one never changed you.

Sorry for giving birth to you and wishing your death every single minute. Sorry we couldn't get that you're carrying parts of the soul too. That you have attraction in your curves and secrets under your ties.

Sorry we didn't get your owner's passion for cooking. Although he/she should have challenged himself/herself by cooking what doesn't create you.

It's been tough recently I know, specially with all the thoughts about clothes that hide you and that guy that always made jokes of you.

But fats, you really make troubles. Remember when he couldn't jump high enough? When she couldn't run fast enough? You suffocate the other organs until they can't breath.

Sometimes we need to let go of a piece so the other pieces shine. But first we need to differentiate. Differentiate between an extra piece and an original large piece. Some bodies are just curvy, that's the way they're and that's the way they'll die. But others are gaining you fats, that's the sad truth.

The owner has to do something, for the sake of the whole body, responsibility. He/she will have to melt you. And you shall be happy for it will protect his/her soul more.

But the owner shall not let go of his/her pieces because of society's refusal. Never. Let go because it's better for you not for them.

At the end, I can't promise you a softer society but you can promise me a careless, loving its body personality.

The Binding (Noah, Divergent)

Here I come back to the place,

Where the darkest sight is a white page.
A space waiting to be filled with feelings.
To be filled with sorrow, to be filled with rage.

Such a wretched gift us poets have;
The gift to make beauty out of pain.
And when the marvel is done, beauty fades.
And only bitter memories remain.

Fool is he who thinks poets write for leisure.
It is a binding of infinite might.
The heart is bound to feel every word,
And the hand is forever bound to write.

So often would I look at my pen,
Gliding so softly over the pages.
"Cursed!" I'd think, for a poet's hand,
Is by far the darkest of cages.

"Mightier than a sword" they say.
Let the sword cower in shame,
For they both yield the power to wound,
Yet the pain is in no way the same.

مساواة (مريم السحراوى)

يحتاج جَسد البشر الغذاء ليّعيش .. و يحتاج أيضاً الحقوق ليتعايش، feminismً أحد أهم الحقوق المفقودة في العالم ..

كثيراً من الناس تجهَلُ بهذا الحق، الكلمة معناها حرفياً أنثوَيّ و معناها إصطلاحاً المساواة بين الجنسين ، المُطالِبين بها دائماً ما يكونوا إناث لإعتراف الرجال بأخذ حقوقهم كاملة من المجتمع و الحكومات!

تشمل المساواة بين الجنسين حقوق كثيرة، منها حفظ الحقوق في العمل و المعاملة، المساواة القانونية، رفض العنف الأسري و التحرش الجنسي و غيرها، بدايتها كانت في المجتمع الغربي في القرن التاسع عشر الميلادي و هذا عندما زاد إضطهاد المرأة بشكل مبالغ فيه و إفتقادها لحق الإنتخاب و عدم المساواة في الأحكام القانونية و غيرها، تأثرت بعض المجتمعات المختلفة بهذه القضية و لكن بصور متفاوته منهم من تناولها بشكل خاطئ و اُخرى بشكل صائب ، و أشهرها دولة أوكرانيا لقيام بعض النساء بإنشاء أحزاب أو جماعات تسمي (femen) و قيامهُن بالتظاهر و هُنَّ عاريات لتأكيد إنه لا فرق بين ذكر و أنثي و لكنه بعيد كل البعد عن هدف الفيمنيزم ،

و كذلك تأثر المجتمع العربي بالقضية
و لكن ظاهرياً فقط،فهناك بُلدان حتي وقتنا هذا لا تسمح للسيدات بإظهار وجهَهُنَّ عند الإقامة بها ولا تسمح لهم بالوصول إلي مناصب أعلى من الرجال في العمل، الشعور بالعار عند إنجاب الإناث و عدم بوح الرجال بأسماء أمهاهتم و بناتهم خجلاً و كأنه أحد اسباب هوان المجتمع العربي. بالمزيد من البحث نرى أن مصر تعتبر هي أولي الحضارات المُعترِفة بحقوق النساء،فكانت حتشبسوت من الملكات التي حكمنَ مصر و أثروا في تاريخها العظيم ، فكانت المرأة تصل لأعلى المناصب و تشارك في شتي جوانب الحياة ، و لكن تغيرت الأحداث حتي وصلنا إلي التاريخ المعاصر الذي أزداد معه إضطهاد و ظلم المرأة في كل نواحي الحياة تقريباً من ضمنها...إزدياد نسبة التحرش الجنسي إلى أقصاها.

و لكن كان هناك ردود فعل إيجابية إلى حدٍ ما قيام وقفات إحتجاجية ضد هذه الأمور فتم تشكيل العديد من الجماعات و الأحزاب "للدفاع" عن حقوق المرأة لا عن مساواتها مع الرجل ، فنحن حتي نخجل بأن نتخيل أن يكون حاكم بلدتنا أو حتي حكوماتنا سيّدة و إذا تغاضينا عن هذا لا نستطيع أن نتغاضى عن من هم يدّعون إنهم قُرّاء و نابغيين و هم يشوهون صورة الدين و يدمرون مكانة المرأة و يُقرّون بأن الدين أهمل مكانة المرأة ووضعها في مكانة أقل من الرجل
ولكن هذه الأحاديث ليس لها أي أساس من الصحة فدين السلام "الإسلام" حثّ علي العدل و المساوة بين جميع طبقات المجتمع فقيراً غنياً ذكراً أو انثي،أاما ما يُقال أن المرأة لها مكانة في المجتمع أقل من الرجل ذَكرَ الله لهُم في كتابه الكريم قوله تعالى ﴿ أنِّي لاَ أُضِيعُ عَمَلَ عَامِلٍ مِنْكُمْ مِنْ ذَكَرٍ أَوْ أُنْثَى بَعْضُكُمْ مِنْ بَعْضٍ ﴾ [آل عمران: 195]
و أيضاً ،﴿ لِلرِّجَالِ نَصِيبٌ مِمَّا اكْتَسَبُوا وَلِلنِّسَاءِ نَصِيبٌ مِمَّا اكْتَسَبْنَ ﴾ [النساء: 32].

لندرك أن ما يحدث حولنا هو نتيجة لتفكيرنا لا نتيجة لديننّا و لا نتيجة لحضارتنا ، بل هو مِنّا
خلقنا الله أحرار ، لم نُخلق لنرضى الخَلق ،
لم نُخلق لنظرات الناس وأاحكام المجتمع ،
خُلقنا لنبني المجتمع و مستقبل الأمم.
المساواة بين الذَكر و الأنثى هي فرض و ليست إختيار ، لا تُبرر خطأك بأنك ذَكر و إنك ليس عليكَ حَرَج ، أنا نصف المجتمع و أنتَ النصف الأخر،متساوون في كل شئ.

زّهر (ريم جبر)

أؤمن أحيانا بأني قادرة على فعل أشياء غاية في التحرر، إندماجي مع الموسيقى المليئة بأصوات الطبول تحديدا، ميلي إلى أساليب المتصوفه، دفاعي عن الأفكار التي تتغير صياغتها في عقلي كل دقيقة، حريتي في إرتشاف قهوتي على مهل في ظل سرعة أيامي المتتاليه، في أن أصرخ دون أن ينزعج أحد من فعلي ذاك، أن لا أشعر بضعفي في اللحظة التي أكون قد مللت عشرة نفسي، شجاري المتكرر مع بشر لا يحترفون الكلام، إحساسي أحيانا بالتعالي والأنانية و نبذ من يفعلون ذلك، قولي دائما بأن "الشخصية أهم من الشكل" و إهتمامي بظواهر و قشور الأشياء من حولي، أعبر عن نفسي بشكل أوضح بحروف مبعثرة لا تعلم لها بداية أو نهاية، عشقي اللا متناهي في كسر القوانين و الشذوذ عن القواعد، ليست المشكلة في كوني مختلفة بقدر الراحة النفسية التي تنتابني لمجرد خروجي عن ما ألفته بعضا من الوقت، أحب الوحدة، أكن وقارا للليل فهو يشكل الجزء الأريح لنفسي فأنا عادتا أخذ وضعية لا تريحني و هي وضعية الدفاع، لا أثق بنوايا من حولي بتاتا بالرغم من رغبتي في أن أثق، أنتظر اليوم الذي يسمح لي بحضور حلقة من حلقات الذكر، قادرة تماما على عدم ترك حق من حقوقي أو الرد على الأشياء التي لا تروقني لكن بقرب الأشخاص مني بقدر ما يعجز لساني، مؤمنة بالله و بفناء كل شئ، أكره الموت فهو الحالة الأخرى التي يعجز فيها لساني متقلبة المزاج ببشاعة، أقدر لنفسي عندما أحاول هدمها مرات عدة فتتمسك بموقفها و تعيدني إلى ما كنت عليه.

My Silky Moods (Yara, Divergent)

Oh darling,

But do you know what is it like to date a girl that changes her personality according to her hair style?

Time to face the world. Curly, I make it big, big with enough curls to carry all the world's problems, enough curls for being a wild creature, enough curls for the brave heart, enough curls for revolutions, enough curls for the society refusal, enough curls for feminism, enough curls for hanging men who wants control, enough curls for matching any tone of red lipstick, enough curls for doodles, enough curls for collecting all my shattered pieces, enough curls for passing wars, enough curls for departure talks, curls that don't fear ends and curls that know how to survive, anything.

Here's a hair wash for a compact with the world. Straight hair that shows its length. Long enough to listen, long enough to help, long enough to draw happy girls, long enough to make tidal waves of kindness, long enough to grow flowers, long enough to respond with red cheeks, long enough to seek safety, long enough for acceptance.

The weather got it and sometimes it likes to mess up with me. And like a little child you can never persuade him it's not the right time to play.

Another hair wash for the hair dresser. Now it's a game of ignorance. Ignorance enough to turn its wings away whenever someone is talking, ignorance enough to never let anyone any closer, ignorance enough for scratching my paints, ignorance enough to neglect my scars, ignorance for walking on earthquakes and volcanoes and ignorance enough for life ignorance.

Last wash for that state I'm rarely on. Hijab for the sake of peace, peace for all my prayers, peace for all your prayers and peace upon us.

A Freedom seeker (Zahraa Modather, Divergent)

Dear society,
Ever since I was born, you’ve been confining my soul and when I say confining my soul, it does mean confining me. Since, I’m a soul that wears a body.

You’ve tried so hard to shatter my freedom.
But guess what? 
I was neither dumb nor feeble as you thought.
I survived it.

When I didn’t attain the freedom that I’ve always fought for,
I carved a new path to my own freedom
And it wasn’t that hard.
You refused my ideas,
but I expressed them anyway.
You refused how I looked,
but I tended to emerge everywhere.
you refused my personality,
but I tended to be myself
in every single sitiuation
and in front of everyone.

Stubborn, aint I?
Actually, I’m not
I was just born to be TOTALLY free
free to express,
free to be myself,
free to write,
and free to speak.

I’m just me and that’s what truly matters, no matter how much you hate it!
I don’t care about what you think of me and I’ll never care.
As long as I set my soul totally free, nothing else in this world matters.

Sincerely,
A Freedom seeker

Don't Close Your Eyes (Noah, Divergent)

Do not yet close your eyes,
For I do not yet wish to sleep,
And break the gaze from the face,
Of beauty which made the sirens weep.

Don't deny me the pleasure, don't spare me the sight.
Of eyes so perfectly made.
And don't be so cruel to turn off the light,
For never was there so perfect a shade.

And never was I so drunk in beauty,
And never was happiness so surreal.
So do not ever let me be sober,
And let me shut out all what's real.

Is it not right to bask in dreams,
When reality can never as brightly shine.
If so, then let me ponder in the beauty I see,
And don't close your eyes, until I open mine.

من البطل؟ (سلمى جمال)

دخل إلي غرفته علي عجل و هو يتأفف... كم أحب غرفته و شعر إنها مهربه من تلك الدوامة الكئيبة التي تمسك به و تشده من جميع الجوانب...حياته لا يملكها بل هي ملك لعائلته....فأبوه دائما يشكو منه و أمه لا ينقطع إلحاحها له لكي يدخل كلية العلوم حتي يحقق حلمها التي فشلت فيه و يصبح عالم بكتيريا يعالج الأمراض الوبائية المستعصية!....ما ذنبه إذاً!!

اتجه إلي مكتبه و جلس و هو غاضب ثم شرع بالتفكير و لا إرادياً وجد نفسه يفتح كراسته التي دوماً ما يصب بها غضبه و يحوله إلي كلمات لا مثيل لها....كان أمامه ورقة بيضاء ناصعة ليس بها نقطة حبر....فأخذ يبحلق بها طويلا ً و هو يتمني أن تصبح حياته مثل هذه الورقة فيسطر بها ما يشاء....و ظل هكذا حتي التقط قلمه و بدأ كعادته بكتابة بعض الكلمات التي ليس لها أي معني.....و ظل يكتب حتي وجد نفسه أمام دوامة عجيبة من الصفات و المواقف المبعثرة و هو لا يفهم ما كتب أو ما دفعه للكتابة بجنون هكذا....بدأ روياً بمحاولة قراءة ما كتبه...و بالفعل استخلص بعض من كلماته و بدأ بإعادة ترتيبها علي صفحة جديدة و انهمك في تحريف الكلام و إعادة صياغته و ترتيبه....حتي انتهي من الكتابة و ترك القلم و بدأ يقراء كلامه بإعجاب،فهو وصف شخصاً بطلا ً أو هو بالأحري ليس شخصاً بل آلة منقذة....هو حقيقي لا يعلم و لكن ما وجده إنه وصف شخصاً يعمل أربعة و عشرون ساعة باليوم....لا يكل ولا يمل....يستيقظ من السادسة صباحاً و يخلد إلي النوم في الثانية صباحاً .....عقله ليس له بل لمن حوله و حياته ليست ملكه أيضاً فهي تتشكل علي أساس من يحيطون به....قلبه واسع و رحمته و عطفه لا مثيل لهما....يعمل بمهنة يحبها و أيضاً يجيد جميع أعمال المنزلية.... يبكي في صمت و لا أحد يشعر به و دائماً يلقون باللوم عليه لأي فشل أو مشكلة...يفني عمره لإطالة عمر من يحب....يحرص علي إرضاء الجميع و هو سر راحتهم و بالرغم من ذلك هو لا يتذوق طعم الراحة أبداً...دليل لجميع الناس و عبارة عن ماكينة تقرأ أفكارهم و تعي تماماً ما يريدون حتي و إن لم يبدوا أي شيءٍ..قد يكون زنانً بعض الشيء و يتحدث بدون توقف و لكن وجودة شيء أساسي....يتحمل ما لا يُحتمل من أجل فقط رؤية السعادة علي وجوه من يحب....هو أساس النجاح و التوازن و إن كان من حوله يستخفون به و بما يبذله....

يا الله ما هذا! ماذا وصف بحق السماء؟!
مضي يفكر قليلا ً هل هذا روبوت؟ نعم فبالتأكيد هذا شيء غير آدمي!! لا إنسان علي وجه هذة الخليقة يمكن أن يجتمع به كل هذا!!!....لا لا بالتأكيد هذا إنسان آلي صفاته كالجبال وأيضاً له مشاعر حب لا تنضب....هذا نصف إنسان و نصف آلي ولا وجود له إلا في مخيلته العجيبة.....

اكتفي بالتفكير و اقتنع إنه انتهي بوصف روبوت يمكن إختراعه في وسط هذا التقدم التكنولوچي الرهيب ....و لكن أضاءت اللمبة الحمراء في عقله و ظل يفكر ثانياً و وجد أمامه سؤال لا إجابة له....من أين جاء بهذة الصفات؟ هو يمقت كل أفلام الخيال العلمي و ووسائل التكنولوچيا التي تبيد المشاعر شيءٍ فشيئاً فمن أين جاء ذلك الروبوت ذو المشاعر الغامرة؟....هو يعلم أن الكلام الذي يُكتِب يكون خلاصة ما مر به الكاتب و رأه في فترة مؤخرة في حياته....و لكن ما رأه هو ليس له علاقة بتلك الصفات فهو كان دائم الجلوس علي كنبة عتيقة منعزلة في جانب البيت حتي لا يتحدث إليه أحد....كان دوماً يراقب أمه و هي منهمكة في أعمال المنزل و إنهاء ما يخص عملها و أحياناً كان يمر به أبوه ليوبخه قليلا ً و طبعاً لا يكتمل يومه من دون زن إخوته الصغار و شقاوتهم المفزعة....هذة الصفات بالتأكيد ليست صفات أحد من أهل بيته فلا أحد منهم يملك هذة الخِصال الخيالية و هو كان دائمٍ المكوث بالبيت...ظل يفكر حتي كادت رأسه أن تنفجر ....حسناً ربما ليس أشخاصاً و لكن موقف مر أمامه!....نسي ما كان يكتبه و تفنن في صياغته و قلب الصفحة بسرعة و بدأ يسطر أسماء من كان يري الفترة السابقة و من ثم وضع كل الصفات التي كتبها و حاول أن يصل الصفات بالأشخاص كطفل يعد عمره علي يده....و ظل هكذا دون جدوي و الوقت يمر من حوله و جوعه و عطشه يزيدان و يعيقان تفكيرة....آه لو شرب....و من ثم قطع صوت فتح الباب تفكيره العميق و دخلت أمه واجمة و بيدها صحن من الطعام و كوب من الماء...و ظلت توبخه لنسيانه لنفسه هكذا و تأخره عنهم وكيف إنه علي معدته خاوية حتي الليل....و ظل هو أمامها بلا كلام و لكن كان هناك ابتسامة خفية مرتسمة علي شفتاه....لقد جاءته أمه و هو في أشد الحاجة إلي ما تحمل و كأنها تقرأ أفكاره....زادت ابتسامته و هو بدأ يعي عن من كان يكتب....عن من كان يشاهد كل يومٍ في صمت....أخيراً عرف ذلك الإنسان الآلي....

و ثم قام بقطع توبيخ أمه الذي لا ينقطع و قال لها في حب و حنان: "أنتِ أجمل و أقوي من رأت عينا....أنتِ مراية روحي التي تعاونني...أنتِ الحياة بأكملها".....و انفتحت عينا الأم باستغراب و من ثم دخل هو في حضنها بسرعة و كان في أشد الحاجة إلي هذا الكنف.... تاه في حضن أمه الذي أخيراً أعطاه الراحة بعد ساعات التفكير المرهقة التي قضاها و كان علي وشك الجنان.....

كم شعر بأمه و معانتها...كم شعر في هذة اللحظة أن ما فشلت به أمة كان سبب نجاحه هو....أن ما ضحت به أمه سبب سعادته هو...كم شعر بعظمتها و دورها و حبها و عطفها .....كم شعر بضعفها و بتقليل الجميع لها....أخيراً وعي لم أمه تريده أن يصبح عالماً....لم هي قلوقة بشأنه دائماً و لم هي أول من يشعر حقاً بما يشعر.....هذا ببساطة لإن أمه هي شباك روحه و مدخلها .....هي حقاً من سيصنعه لكي يواجه هذة الحياة المريرة....هي حقاً من وهبها الله له و قلبها و ووقتها و كل ثانية من عمرها له و له هو فقط...وعي حقاً أن أمه ،و كل الأمهات، هن ذلك المزيج الخيالي من المشاعر و الآلية....مزيج لن يتوصل له أحد و لن يشعر به أحد بل و لن يقدر أحد علي فعل ربع ما يفعلوه....فقوتهم مصدرها منبع حب و قوة لا ينضب أبداً.....

حفظ الله جميع الأمهات و ألهمهم الصبر و الحب دوماً....

كل سنة و كل الأمهات بخير و سعادة و صحة يارب

!

(آروى الغضبان, Visionaries)

كلما أزداد علماً ..كلما أزداد حيرة فقررت التوقف عن المعرفة فالجهل راحة للبال
كلما أزداد حبً ...كلما أزداد حرقاً في داخلي فكيف لا يحبوني مثلما أحبهم
كلما أزداد عمراً ... كلما أزداد شوقاً للقاء أحباء حلقت أرواحهم بعيداً
كلما أزداد نضجاً ..كلما أزداد حزناً...لا أعرف ماذا يزداد ..أنا ضائعة لا أعرف بماذا أشعر أنا بداخلي مشاعر كثيرة مبهمة عجزت عن كتابتها على الورق، أعجزت أن أكون منها بيت شعر؟ أو أكون جملة تثير إعجاب الاخرين؟ أنا لست جيدة في هذه الأمور. أنا لا أعرف ماذا أجيد. أنا أعرف إنني جيدة في إعداد الطعام و في تنظيف المنزل و في مشاهدة البرامج وأعتقد انني جيدة في المناقشة أو بالأحرى الجدال . لا اجيد تلبية الطلبات فليس لي من ألبي له طلباته. أنا حمقاء لا أعرف ماذا أريد لا أعرف ماذا أحب و لا أعرف ماذا أجيد ..هناك فراغاً في حياتي يسيطر على مشاعري، لكن ليس فراغ وقت ... أظن فراغ عقل. أنا أحتاج الكثير من الكتب أنا أحتاج إلى قراءة الكثير من العقول فعقلي وحده لا يكفيني....

My Corrupted Pet (Bothaina Ayman, Visionaries)

My Corrupted Pet

The sun bathed the people with a blinding beam, plastering them with sweat and warmth. Occasionally, the buildings would shield the people from the cruel sun, but it did not stop the heat from seeping through the shadow of those buildings. But even though it was a sizzling day, it did not stop people from going out, whether to work or simply to find  leisure.
A certain figure, rather sinful to be truthful, walked against the crowd. He pumped through people's shoulders and muttered curses under his corrupted breath. His head was held high, belittling people's presence around him. But most importantly, his eyes; oh how his eyes sneered secretly and mischievously, one glance would pierce a hole through one's head – not literally, of course, but they were sharp as arrows and green as thorns.
Seth William, a suitable name, fits him like a puzzle. Seth worked as a business man in a company not so widely known, but as long as it paid the taxes, Seth always claimed to his 'wife'. It's a wonder how he even calls her his 'wife', why, you ask?
Unfortunately, Seth's spoiled heart cannot keep one woman in his life. In fact, it's been two whole years since he's been cheating on his poor wife.
Seth entered the familiar building, finding familiar, somehow terrified, faces. He walks with long strides, given that his legs were quite long.
"G-good morning Mr. William" The man at the entrance greeted him fearfully, with eyes avoiding Seth's green ones.
Seth scoffed in return. How expected.
A small crowd was gathered around the elevator, however that didn't really surprise Seth; it's always crowded every morning. Seth rolled his eyes impatiently, let out a loud sigh, and shoved his way through the crowd, which suddenly went quiet.
He stopped right before the elevator, ignoring the gossips behind him. Little did Seth know, there were certain people staring proudly at the intimidating man.
Once the elevator opened, Seth strode inside and stood in the middle, staring at buttons, then pressed the seventh's floor button. As the elevator was about to close, a muscled hand reached over and opened the elevator door, revealing a muscular, tall man.
Seth simply let out a groan, and looked boringly at the ceilings. His ear spotted footsteps entering the elevator, which immediately closed after…
He slowly set his eyes downward, seeing seven pair of feet around him. Once more, he looked upward and observed the new faces around him.
'They must be new,' Seth thought.
After a moment of peace, the elevator stopped right between the fourth floor and the fifth floor. It wasn't a first, the elevator needed fixing for three weeks, yet the workers seemed to forget each time. Seth cursed – an unlikely one at that – under his breath. Seth, however, got curious in seeing the newcomer's faces, so very slowly and secretly, he observed each face.
At Seth's right stood a tall - quite tall that Seth wasn't sure how he even fits the elevator – man. His eyes were hidden behind coal, black bangs. He was wearing black trousers, a tailcoat, and a tie around his neck.
On Seth's left was the bald, muscular man – his hazel eyes darting forward and his foot tapping impatiently. He looked like the type of person one would not mess with, which gave Seth a sense of challenge.
Behind him stood a woman with scarlet hair. A smirk was plastered on her rosy lips. Her blue eyes glistened with mischievousness, and she almost seemed like a hyper kid for she kept swaying back and forth.
Another looked as if he just woken up; his blonde hair wasn't combed, his vest was buttoned incorrectly, and his jacket was tossed loosely around his shoulders.
'How repulsive.' Seth thought as he took a step away from the messy man, which earned a chuckle from someone behind him.
Seth looked back to see an average height man with chocolate, brown hair, brown eyes, and white, porcelain skin. He seemed quite fancy – leather gloves engulfed his hands, three diamond rings curled around his fingers, and a necklace that was secretly hidden beneath his shirt.
Next to the brunette was a slightly crouched  guy with his hands behind his back. He had pale, almost colorless skin, black hair, and jade eyes that resembled Seth's. Seth also noted that he had a tattoo on his right hand, but he couldn't quite see what the tattoo looked like.
The last one was an obese, short man with slicked back blonde hair and brown eyes. It's a wonder how his clothes even fitted the obese guy. Seth was positive that the short man's vest was going to tear any moment.
'What a weird combination of people,' Seth believed, 'I wonder who they are'
Suddenly, a burst of girlish giggle erupted from behind him.
"He actually doesn't know who we are!" The woman snorted, getting Seth full attention
"Quiet, you." The tall man ordered with a guttural voice.
"Well, of course he doesn't." The brunette stated with a smirk.
'Are they…talking about me?' Seth wondered
Yet another girlish giggle accompanied by a thud emitted from behind Seth.
"Yes, we're talking about you!" The woman poked her pointed fingernails on Seth's cheeks, causing him to groan and slap her hand away "silly you."
"That's enough, L-" The muscular man retorted then cleared his throat quickly.
'That can't be. How can she read my mind?' Seth thought nervously, 'and she said 'we', does that mean the others could read my mind too?'
"Yes." Seven different voices confirmed.
Seth seemed perfectly blank, but inside he was screaming endless questions. So without further thinking, Seth asked "So who are you people? I've never seen any of you before."
Silence.
"You've never seen us before, indeed" The crouched man stated,
The obese man continued "but you've used us quite a lot,"
"Every day in fact," The messy looking one continued.
"Which is rather surprising actually." The brunette said, while cracking his gloved knuckles.
"Most people use at least two or three of us," The woman claimed, "but you actually managed to use the seven of us"
'Use? What does that even mean?' Seth thought.
Silence.
Unexpectedly, a throbbing pain pounded in Seth's stomach. He let out a gasp, as his legs gave in, causing him to fall on his back. His hands clutched onto his shirt, while his eyes stare disbelievingly at the ceiling of the elevator.
"W-what's happening to me?!" He shrieked, "what are you doing to me?!"
Silence
Giggle
Seven figures surrounded him, looking down at him with pity. "Shame, really." The tall man said, shoving his hands in the pocket of tailcoat.
"That we'd have to give up on one of our best devotee," The obese man said, while scratching his head.
"Indeed." The crouching man commented, "Allows us to introduce ourselves, oh precious one" He pointed at himself, giving a slight bow "I am Envy."
The tall man brushed his coal hair, revealing violet eyes "Pride."
"Gluttony." The obese man.
"Lust." The woman.
"Greed." The brunette.
"Wrath." The muscular one.
"Sloth." The messy looking one.
'The Seven Sins? How is that even possible?' Seth breathed his final and stunned breath, whilst his chest halted from heaving and his eyes shutting.
"Aw, but I didn't get to answer his question." Greed whined with a knowing smirk.
"He'll eventually get his answer," Pride claimed, as a smile finally curled on his lips
"Somewhere else." Lust giggled, "we will meet him again."
The Seven Sins took a final glance at their pet, then glanced at one another.
Once the elevator opened, people gasped as they saw Seth's body on the ground, but saw none of the Seven Sins, as if they vanished into thin air. However, they were still there, in fact…
They are everywhere.

Will You Remember Me? (Noha ElNashar, Visionaries)

Will You Remember Me?

She stood there on the bridge, staring down at the water and thinking about how it changed color when the sun gave off its rays, even though the sun was missing now. She liked to stare at the sky and watch how it looked peaceful at days and how it emitted rage at others. Today, though, it was rage. She breathed in the cold air, tainted by the smell of smoke and perfume. She knew it was only a few minutes before she totally loses herself to her thoughts, before she goes down memory lane and resurfaces when the sun goes down. With everything that has been happening, it is impossible not to do so. She closed her eyes, ready to let relief and longing wash over her. She has never understood how those two emotions could be felt simultaneously. But her best guess was that she was longing for the past and those who inhabited it but was relieved that for a few hours a day, she could lie back on a bench on a bridge and dream. Dream of the beautiful, radiant girl she was a few months ago, of the spoiled girl she was, of the hopeful girl she was, of the happy girl she was. How did her life turn upside down in a day? Knowing she would never find the satisfying answer, she sat on the bench, her hands in her lap. She looked down at how frail they have become, and her eyes rested on the finger where her ring has been. Sometimes she thought she ought to wear it still, but now she knows there is no need. It is not going to bring him back. It is not going to bring anyone back. Some days, she would think she could have survived the loss of one of them, but all of them? She didn’t think so. For a simple reason. What she has been doing since then is not surviving. It is basically going with the wind until someone, anyone, decides against it.
She closed her eyes and waited anxiously for the familiar faces to start flooding her mind. She was on the brink of letting them in and shutting the rest of the world out when she felt a presence beside her. She opened her eyes and looked at the guy now sitting beside her. He was looking at her with wide eyes that made her feel as if the entire world stopped at his big eyes and angular face. He was smiling at her.
“Hey,” he started to speak. She tried to ignore him and go back to her dreams and thoughts but he started talking again. “I know you come here everyday.” Something about how he talked confidently made her want to slap him and tell him he doesn’t know anything about her. “And is that a problem?” she asked sarcastically.
“No, it’s not. It’s actually quite mysterious but I figured it out.”
“Yeah?” she cocked an eyebrow at him, ready to give him a chance. “Do you want to test me?” He smirked.
“I would like to.” She grinned at him. A genuine grin, not just the toothy smile she has gotten used to. “Who am I and why am I here?” He smiled at her pride and her thinking he wouldn’t know, but he made it his purpose to surprise her. “You are a girl who used to be stunning and beaming and satisfied with what life gave you, although you pretended to demand more, but deep inside, you knew you could die right then and be happy. You knew you left marks on people’s hearts, people you loved and would have sacrificed everything for. You let yourself think you were spoiled but you were not; you were simply happy, dwelling in the pleasure life gave you.”
She stared at him, horrified to open her mouth. But as if she was possessed she let herself talk freely, and before she could stop, she said, “Well, life took all the pleasures away from me.”
Her words came out as a jumbled whisper but he understood, “It is only a test. You just need to pass. Believe me, once you cross to the other side of this wall life has thrown into your life, you’ll experience the most beautiful of feelings. I know you’re young, but you need to know that this is what life specializes in. It gives you a hard, twisted test that you have no idea how to pass and stands there watching as you go around in circles and labyrinths trying to figure how to get the hell out.”
“But I have lost everyone with whom I could experience those feelings you’re talking about.” She shook her head, though he knew she was dazed. And that’s kind of what he counted on.
“You’ll meet new people. Life doesn’t stop. As cruel as it is, it gives you second chances. A second chance at meeting a friend, at falling in love, at forgiving, at seeking forgiveness. You can’t let it stop here; it is not fair for you nor for those who are destined to meet you and fall in love with you, whether it is a friend or a lover or a mere stranger.”
At that she looked up at him with a hazy look in her eyes and asked the question he dreaded the most, “Who are you?”
He knew his effect was wearing off, and that he had to go. He couldn’t risk her remembering him. So, he forced himself to get a grip on his feelings and said, “You don’t need to know who I am. You will know soon enough.” And with that he leaned in and kissed her cheek and said, “Till we meet again, my love.”
She stared at him as he walked away from her and from the bench where he was sitting a couple of seconds ago. Then, she blinked and it was like she just retreated to the bench after she has watched the sky and water.

She didn't remember.

Café 22: A New Beginning (Nora Keshk, Visionaries)

Café 22: A New Beginning

I curled my hands tightly around the warm cup of coffee, while the hustle of people going in and out created a pleasant hum into my ears. Slowly, I lifted the cup to my lips, gently sipping at the steaming drink and ignoring the sting on the tip of my tongue. Looking out the window, birds swoop from every direction hoping for a piece of crumb to feast on. The pavements were covered with pigeons that fought over the smallest speck of what may, or may not, be food. The noise from the traffic invaded my thoughts. Instead of writing in my diary, I decided to watch.

I watched the lonely customer, an old African-American man who sat at the front corner, order the same meal of raisin toast, scrambled eggs, and a cup of coffee on the early mornings of Sundays and the late nights of Wednesday. While drinking his coffee, he would hold the cup in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

I watched the old woman slowly walk in once a month with her teenage granddaughters. Her boisterous laughter and shining eyes announced to the world that she has never been happier.

I watched the couple in the last corner booth; hands and legs intertwined as they shared orange juice, waffles, and glances with one another.

And I watched Joey, whose smile brightened up the entire room as he took orders from customers.

Casting my gaze onto the worn table top, I tightened my grip on the cup in my hands. The feeling of longing for some sort of interaction rushed through my veins. More than anything else in the world, I wanted to have thoughtful conversations, to laugh, or to at least say hello to one of the many people that pass by me on a daily basis. But I can't; my fear will break down any thoughts of ever wanting to sound out a sentence before I even get the chance to speak a single word.

I wasn't always this way, so afraid of the world. A few years ago, I was a social-butterfly, talking to anyone who would listen. But then it all changed. I spoke too soon, said too much, and created a disaster that made me lose everything: my family, my friends, and the previous life I had.

I moved into a new town, changed my identity, and portrayed myself in public as the girl who never spoke that much. I became scared of ruining another life of mine, so I hid in here every day, never seen sparing a smile to the world around me. Now, I'm exhausted with living as this new character that isn't the real me. I want to yell, scream, and laugh so loudly that people will send me side glances. I want to live.

 I slowly put my cup on the table and slid out of the booth I was sitting in. My feet now had a mind of their own; however, the other one in my head was screaming "Stop! Sit down! Do you know what you're putting yourself through?"

 I wrung my hand nervously and stuffed trembling fingers into my pockets. Instead of focusing on the fear that was jittering inside of me, I kept track of my steps and kept moving forwards.

After what felt like a million-mile walk, I reached the front counter. Standing at the register and without looking up, he began speaking.

"Welcome to Café 22, where everyone can have a new beginning. How may I help you angel? You know I can take your order at your seat."

Instead of answering him, I shoved my right hand in front of me. With a small shaky voice and an unfamiliar smile stretching across my face, I said "Hi Joey, my name is Lila."

Chapter 2: The Fall (Omar ElFarouk, Visionaries)

Chapter 2: The Fall

“It is not Dark nor is it black , but it is gloomy there is certainly a shade of black or grey covering my eyes, is it painful ? I don’t know…… how about I stick a hot rusty rod into the small of your back so it pierces your heart and then I can ask you the same thing. I see them, all of them…. They are all here, they all forgot about their petty rivalries and their illusions of granger and they all came to say their last goodbyes – I prefer see ya later – but today isn’t about me now is it ?....is it? Hollywood and TV had us believe that the pain is constant, everlasting like a hot burning fire  and that suddenly a grey filter will be dropped in front of our eyes until we burst into hysteric, almost psychotic laughter thus bringing back exploding colors… that is not true, the pain isn’t constant otherwise no one would have survived this, people will laugh, I will laugh loudly and full heartedly and then the laughter stops and distraction ends and the same feeling of an everlasting ending comes back with the question, and there is no grey filter life with all its bursting colors, with all the people coming and going, with all …… all….. all the LIFE goes on, which keeps reminding you that the Earth stops for no one. I told you earlier that there is no grey filter but there is a certain shade of grey or black covering my eyes, contradictory isn’t it ? your brain, the source of your confidence and also arrogance is pointing this out like a sore thumb , a red light, boasting and gloating that you found a mistake but you didn’t because that is what happens the certainty of life gets replaced by unreasonable ambiguity: repeating the question once is never enough ……… because the answer never changes, instead of the changeless daily rotation you face every day, you get a swift and abrupt reminder of how surprisingly quick it is and logic along with reason depart so that hysteria and disorientation can settle in taking their place, a lucky Blessed few face this with patience and calm. There are two types of angry men ,I once read those, who lash out when they feel angry right away and the dangerous ones. The dirt buffs up whenever we take a step there is a large number of people here and most of them are asking questions that don’t really matter? I cannot blame them…… a green sprout almost knocked me over, it came out of the dark ground and went back in creating a loop, it was bright brown almost red and green defiantly breaking the hard ground ……… mockingly looking at me , I could have sworn I saw it raise a finger and revel in our pain……… IN MY PAIN, I wanted to kick it out of the ground to pull it out with both hands exposing its roots to the unforgiving sun and wind then I would dump it unceremoniously to the side ; everyone would trample on it and then I would look at its undignified former shell and raise a finger and revel in its pain……… I did no such thing and I thought of no such Ideas, I simply marched on, I brought out my notebook scratched a name off , covered it completely in black Ink so that I may never have to read it again, and a small voice inside my head mockingly said “as if that would help.”, I remember part of the page changed from beaten old dusty yellow to dark wet yellow for ……… I …… I was ……… for some reason!!!! and I closed the notebook and said to the person next to me the “FALL” claimed a lot of my brothers and he raised a finger as a sign that his brain told him “OHH WE HAVE FOUND A MISTAKE CORRECT HIM SO WE CAN FEEL GOOD ABOUT OURSELVES…” and as he opened his mouth to say that “it’s the fight after the fall and no the fall”, I shoot him; the bullet curved a see through tunnel that connected the air outside the back of his head with the air inside his mouth, penetrating the emptiness in between. And with that hole I reminded everyone once more before the feeling even faded away of how sudden it was. And how fast He was.”

“WOOOOOW!!! MAN that is gruesome, people went through a lot After the Fall” Jack said as he looked up from the page he was reading to the man people called the Prophet , the faintest hint of a smile at the seams of his mouth only noticeable by that man; “Micro expressions” the Prophet thought to himself, then Jack looked back down and continued  “ it reads on to say that he calmly put his gun back in its holster, and marched on, he kind of even went into detail of how most of the people marched on, almost as if nothing happened but he emphasizes two that some did flinch and that he corrected a wrong that this is how it should have happened that the old should go before the young.”
“How can it be kind of and in details its either he meticulously described it or he didn’t ?” the Prophet shot off interrupting “ well he actually is pretty good at half doing things I guess that is what happens when you are in his situation, and stop it with the aggressive questions you are sounding like me?” Jack replied jokingly “Yes I am sounding like a show off who needs attention like he needs air, and FYI you are showing sympathy for a classic case of psychosis.” The Prophet said with a smirk on his face and a dance in his eyes; Jack gave it half a thought to wipe that smirk of his face then he reminded himself that this isn’t business and he should draw a line in the sand especially when it came to old friends “ you are saying those people, those who suffer from psychosis I mean, don’t deserve sympathy?” he said reassuring himself that he followed his own rules and didn’t fully attempt trying to wipe that smirk off his face, the Prophet realized what was happening and said “ No of course not I am not saying that at all but consider that there is a guy in there who just got shot , that guy!! deserves sympathy ,” then he continued on to say “but I can see that you are not biting …… growing old huh?” he threw his bait for the last time , hoping his friend would bite but Jack shot back wittingly “growing wise, and I thought you are the one in the room people called the Prophet” knowing people’s buttons was a soft skill that he was both grateful for and proud of having and with that sentence the so called and claimed by the masses Prophet’s smirk got whipped, he gave him a look that they both understood, and he almost felt that he could see the hate and awkwardness he carried towards that title materialize and take form with them on the green old walls of this dusty single bed room , a not awkward silence went on for a couple of seconds and then (he) asked “ when do you think this was written?”  “Probably between the fifth and eighth year A.F” Jack answered in his unsure but surprisingly accurate way of answering questions that he only knows half the answers too, “It’s been so long….”(either play the pronoun game or say his name) he said reminiscently “it was a simpler time back then, an easier time, more organized.” (he) continued “You think?” Jack asked both sarcastically and with a clear objecting tune “I don’t know…………when am I sure of anything these days?   

Epilogue (Omar ElFarouk, Visionaries)

Epilogue

The briefness of certain moments creates a surreal aura around them , as if they are portals to other timelines and realities on their own. The moment you turn the keys inside the lock and hear the click and realize that you are right now locked outside but you still have the key yet you can't remember when exactly did that happen? the seconds you spend suspended in the air after jumping then you are falling down, others could be more decisive, a bullet is fired out of its gun barrel....the smoke , the small fire, the bang, and then a thud maybe even a cry out of horror ........ haaaah horror, when the timer starts counting down from three to reach the final explosive zero that's when the hero is just in time either to become a legend or watch his biggest failure ever from the front row sit ohhh did I lose you? I was talking about a bomb, sometimes my mind just goes blank, yours does that too am sure I have seen it in their eyes, that moment is also surreal like all the different versions of you are for a few seconds all thinking the same thing, the nothing, you can actually get people to reach that's how you get obedient slaves, sorry I mean hypnosis subjects, do you think if you do it to someone else, you are doing it to them in all these different realities? I am not sure, but when am I sure of anything??????

The Dark

"There is an outpost out there" he said, high on his tower he stood , looking over those who lived under him , measuring them, judging them, taking into consideration what they are worth to him, "I know" the other replied with an obviously challenging tone , his own attempt to affirm his own authority since he lost the home advantage he can't afford to lose a chance to solidify his own dominance, its quiet dangerous when two egos collide yet isn't it even more dangerous when they work together? "The Dark don't interfere , as long as nobody calls upon them" he said trying to get on his nerves by dictating the obvious , a series of continuous attempts to prove his superiority, "I KNOW" the other shot back , noticing how he is losing the fight, he started shuffling through his mind for a comeback, if he was someone else he might would have found the pressure unpleasing but for him , he thrived and lived for the challenge, and there were a few ones these days, except.......... - correction they both enjoyed the challenging, annoying yet meaningful and necessary existence of one another- "You know it is not an outpost, not anymore at least, it's a fort now......."he late that linger for a second just a second then he went on "no one is saying you are outdated or that you have weak sources, I just want the best for my...... our operation" He grinned feeling that he served him right .He also grinned thinking everything is going according to plan. It is not until you wed the Dark that you are no longer afraid, or is fear a subjective concept nowadays?

الفراشة (Noah)

طول عمري بحب أكسر الحاجات الكبيرة اللي بتحصللي لحاجات أصغر فأصغر. مش فاهم؟ يعني مثلا لو بابا جابلي عربية (هأو).. دي حاجة كبيرة أهو. بقعد افكر بقى في كل قرش دفعه في العربية جه منين, و كان مع مين, من ساعة ما إتصك في البنك. و بفكر المصنع اللي عمل العربية عملها إزاي و إمتى و كل واحد بيشتغل عليها إتدفعله كام و المصنع إتبنى إمتى و مين اللي عمله. طب ليه؟ عشان لو مكانتش كل حاجة من اللي فوق دي حصلت مكانتش العربية (الخيالية اللي بابايا عمره ما هيعبرني و يجيبهالي) جاتلي. و هنا نوصل لموضوعنا إن أي حدث هو نتيجة لحدث أكبر, اصغر أو بنفس حجمه. و بالتالي لو رجعنا ورا أوي بالزمن هنلاقي إن حاجات صغيرة أوي, زي مسمار مكانش إتربط كويس, أدّى بعدها بعشرات السنين إن السكة الحديد تتكسر و القطر يتقلب و الناس تموت. ده إسمه تأثير الفراشة. نظريا بيقولك إنك لو قتلت فراشة ده هيتسبب بعد سنتين إن اعصار مدمر يحصل في آخر الدنيا عشان جناحات الفراشة دي معملتش تأثير معين في الجو. حاجة صغيرة زي الفراشة, إتسببت في حاجة كبيرة زي إعصار. هنا بنوصل لتعريف نظرية الشواش "Chaos Theory" اللي بتقول إن أي حدث هو ناتج لمعادلة فيها عدد لا نهائي من المتغيرات. يعني أي حدث على الأرض في الأصل نسبة حدوثه أقل من 1\مليون. في الحقيقة أي حدث نسبة حدوثه 1\∞.
بما إني علمي رياضة أحب اقولك إن 1\∞ تساوي صفر.
صفر. صفر هي إحتمالية حدوث أي شيء في الكون. نظريا وجود الكون نفسه بشكله الحالي أو بأي شكل من الأشكال يقترب من الإستحالة.

إحنا مستحيل نكون موجودين ^^
فكرة لذيذة, صح؟ إن إحنا موجودين رغم إن فرصة وجودنا 0%. يعني كل شخص موجود هنا بيتحدى الأرقام و الإحتمالات. لو إحنا ممكن نتحدى الكون و نتوجد بمعجزة, فيه ايه تاني منقدرش نعمله؟

البشر معتزين جدا بنفسهم. و فلاسفة كتير بينتقدوا ده و بينتقدوا حب البشر لتفسير أي ظاهرة كونية على إنها موجهة ليهم و إن المخلوقات كلها ليهم. بيكرهوا تفاخر الجنس البشري بوجوده. أنا عندي إختلاف بسيط. الوجود البشري معجزة! الوجود أصلا معجزة! و عدم تعظيمه و إهمال حاجة زي دي تبقى غلطة كبيرة! و لكن.. الإنسان فعلا معندوش حق يفخر بوجوده. أو بعقله أو بتطوره عن باقي المخلوقات. لسبب بسيط جدا. أنا مينفعش أفخر بحاجة أنا معملتهاش. اللي يستاهل الحمد و الفخر و كل حاجة فعلا هو اللي خلا حدوثنا ممكن رغم الإستحالة النظرية. الحمد لله.

بص بقى لكل حدث في حياتك. بص للأحداث الحلوة و فكر إنها ناتج لأحداث كتير كل واحد فيهم كان ممكن أوي ميحصلش. لكن بتوفيق من ربنا حصل و إنت مش واخد بالك. و إحمد ربك. و فكر في كل حاجة وحشة حصلتلك و إعرف إنها جزء من أحداث كبيرة جاية بعدين و إنت متعرفش حياتك كانت هتبقى عاملة إزاي من غير الحاجة الوحشة دي. و إحمد ربك.
لو علمتم الغيب لإخترتم الواقع.
إحمد رب.

The Happy Hormones (Zahraa Modather)

Happy Hormones

We, humans, are full of emotions, emotions that become stronger or ebb. We spend our life feeling, happy or sad, thrilled or frightened, calm or anxious. These are all states of what we feel. Yet did you ever stop for a moment to think about how we feel and ask yourself what's behind feeling? In actuality the feelings we experience are nothing more than chemical reactions taking place in our body.

Each and every feeling we experience is a result of a certain hormone releases in our body, some hormones are responsible for making us feel good whereas some others are responsible for making us feel bad.

Sometimes we feel sad or depressed due to logical reasons, such as: having an accident, getting a bad grade, losing someone we love, a divorce, losing our job etc. That's normal and likely to happen in everyone's life.

In fact, Depression is more significant among women than men, and sometimes women go for drugs putting in mind that drugs will help them.
The crucial question now is: Are drugs a real treatment for depression?

No, they aren't. They don't help and have negative side effects. So you have to put in mind that these situations will hurt a little and then they'll pass, there is no need for any drugs or antidepressants.

You could be feeling depressed because your hormones are low or your serotonin levels are low. Also, many medical drugs can actually cause depression in both men and women.
How to get over depression?

By activating one of the hormones that make us feel good, however you've to put in mind that if you didn't deal with the roots of the situation, the impact would last for temporary periods.
For example, if you got a bad grade in an exam then you did any of the actions that stimulate the release of the happy hormones, then that might help you feel good for a short period of time but in the end your bad feelings will come back.

But it's still recommended to do actions that stimulate the release of these hormones, just to help ease your pain and help you through your problem.
Hormones that make you happy:

Serotonin: "happiness hormone" Serotonin regulates the mood, prevents depression and makes you feel high-spirited. Serotonin can be released by getting exposed to sunlight, by eating foods rich in carbohydrates and by exercising.

Endorphins:
Endorphins can make you feel good; soothe you and reduce your sensitivity to pain. Endorphins are released by exercising

Dopamine:
Dopamine helps you to feel mentally alert. The lack of it might cause lack of attention, lack of concentration and bad moods. Dopamine can be released by eating foods that are rich in protein.

Ghrelin:
Gherlin is a hormone that reduces stress and can help you wind down. Ghrelin is released when we become Hungary that's why eating too much is not always a good idea. Just eat according to your body’s needs and never fill your stomach completely in order to maintain good Ghrelin levels.

Phenylethamine:
Phenylethamine is the hormone that results in the feelings we get in the early stages of a relationship. Cocoa beans contain Phenylethamine. Eating chocolate might be helpful too.

So now do some of the actions that stimulate the release of these hormones to ease your pain and stop worrying.

The Faded Lives (Salma Gmal)

I'm afraid I might be like all those social networking monsters....I'm afraid I will lose my real identity and get effected by all these mainstream ideas....I'm afraid I will never be who I was and watch my real soul as it evaporates....I'm afraid I will be a manipulated result of the screen I'm passing through all day...I'm afraid how I might think I'm "Imperfect" because I'm so much amazed by those who claim that they are "perfect"...I'm afraid I will live every moment of my life for the sake of "instgaraming" it and posting it so quickly that people "must" keep up with me and my life!..I'm afraid I will be one of those people who are living only to post their life events on their Facebook pages or tweet about every moment and feeling they encounter!....I'm afraid all my emotions and reactions will be moved by a futile device or a photo and not by the real,hard incident itself!....I'm afraid I will neglect the massive reality around me and compact it into a tiny useless object! I'm afraid how I might turn to a freak when my phone is lost for some minutes!....I'm afraid how I might be obsessed to reach the new social media "standards"!....I'm afraid that my phone will be the only reflection to my soul!....I'm simply afraid that one day my life will be destroyed by some meaningless apps and dumb phones and that one day I will walk up with a life wasted on an idea that only existed in my dreaming wangled mind!...

I want a real "Natural","Human" life not an electronically controlled one!

كئيب ابعد عنى (مصطفى)

كئيب ؟ , إبعد عني. كثيرون هؤلاء ذوو تلك العيون قامِتة السوادِ , ليس لونَها بالطبعِ , لا بل مَنظوُرها .. ربما تُحاوِل أنْت الفَتى الطَمُوح الآمِل أن تُجمِع التفاؤل المُشتت من حولِك تجميعًا , محاولةً مِنك للتعايُش مع مُجتَمَعك اليائِس .. ولكِنّ رُبما دائمًا تُصادِف هذا الشخص المِسكينَ قليل الحيلةِ الذي لا يري فى الزَهرِ سوى شوكَه , وفى العلمِ إلَّا تعقيدَه , وفى النعمةِ سوى حقيقة زوالِها .. يرفُض الإستِمتاع باللحظةِ التى يَحيَاها , بالنَفَسِ الذي يَزفِره , يرفُض النَظر إلى أن هنالك كوب موجود من الممكن ملأ نصفه .. فلا تَنزِل الأَجِنة من بُطونِ أُمهاتِها عُلمَاء يُفكرون في شئونِ الذَرةِ و عُلومِ الفَلَك .. و كذلك لم ينزل <<سُقراط>> حكيمًا ومُتأملًا .. ولكنه إعتَمد على المُشكلاتِ لإيجاد الحُلول القاطِعة .. أَخَذ بالأسبابِ .. وكذلك نحن .. علينا الأخْذُ بالأسبابِ .. فكثرُ ما عدُت إلى بَيتِي مُكتئبًا وقَلقًا على هذا المستقبلِ غير واضح الملامح الذي يقف لى خلف تلكَ الخطوةِ التي بالكادِ أخطُوها .. بسببِ كَلمة لا حاجة لها عن صعوبةِ هذه الخُطوة .. فقد أَخَذ هذا الشَخص يَتنبأ عني بوضعي حينها وكيْف هُنالِك عواقب وخيمة تنتظِرُني.. فزَاد تفكيري و زاد و زاد وزاد حتى فَشَلت .. ولكنني قد أخذت الحيرةُ عقلي فى التفكير فى مَاهيةِ هذا الشخص .. وكيْف إكتَسَب تلك النظرةَ البغيضةَ ؟ .. ولكّنَني عَرِفتُ لاحقًا .. الإيمان ياصديقي , فرُبما ضَعْف إيمان هذا الشخص -حينما إستَبَق حدثَ قبل وقوعِه وأَخَذ يُرسِل أفكاره للنهاية المأساوية قبل الحميدة- هو الذي دَفَعهُ لكي يَنظُر لِلمُستَقبَل بهذا الشكلِ .. و ضَعْف الإيمانِ- أيضًا هو الذي يدفعُ الشخصَ للخوفِ من زوالِ نعمةَ اللهِ قَبل حمدِه عَليها .. ولكن ءألا إن فرجَ اللهِ قريبُ ؟ .. فمَهما كثُر الهم فوق عاتقِ الإنسانِ مالهُ إلا أن يدعو ربَه فى خلوةٍ ويكون الفرجُ بعدها لحظيَ .. جلّ الله من أن يعتقد فيه عبده بأن ليس هُناك مايُفعل .. لقد حُتِم مصيرُه وقدرُه مُنذ وُلِد بأن يعيشَ دهره كله حزينًا بائسًا .. تَغلِقُ السعادةُ أبوابها المُذهبةِ فى وجههِ .. قد مُنِعت عنه الفرحة .. فأخذ يُتاجِر بهمومهِ ومصائبِه .. ولكنه نسى أن الفرجَ قريبُ .. لا تيأس يا صاحبي -الذي عَرِفتهُ والذي لم أعرِفُه- فلكلِ بداية نهاية .. ولكل حقيقة مَرار .. ولكل خُطوةٍ عواقِبها .. ولكلِ نعمةٍ ميعاد لزوالها ... ولكن التَحسُر على مستقبل لا تَعلَمُه , و غيبٌ وِسعُ خيالِك أصغرُ من أن يستَوعِبه , لَن يُفيدك شيئًا .. و إعلم جيدًا بأن هذا العقل الباطن الذي تُخزن فيه أنت تنبؤاتك المسمومة لن يحاوِل تغيير المصير الذي خططته لنَفسِك .. و كُن على درايةِ أنَه لا عاصِم من أمرِ اللهِ .. وإن اللهَ يعرِض نِعمَه عليك مادمت حيًا, لا عليك إلا الثقة بوجوده الدائم, وأن هذا الدم الذي يجري الآن فى أورِدَتَك هو أقربُ منه إليك.. وتأكد يا صاحبي أن الله لم يتركك بعد أن خلقك لتواجِه عواصف الدروب وحدك .. ولكنه يجعل لك الحلول في باطن المصائب .. وربما تكون هذه المصيبة أو الأزمة منجاة من أزمة أعظم منها .. فيستقيم بيت علي بن أبي طالب -رضي اللهُ عنه : "فكـم لله من لطف خفي" .. وكُن مؤمنًا حقًا أن رحمةَ اللهِ وَسِعَت كُل شئ .. فلا طفل يولد إلا برزقِه .. ولا رجل يموت إلا بخلفِه .. و لا دابة تمشي على الأرضِ ولا زرع تطرح سنابلُه إلا بعلم الله .. فكفاك همًا وحزنًا .. وأعِد بسمةً قد نَساها وجهُك إلى محاجرِها .. و رَ الله فى وجوه الخلق و في أرواحهم .. وتأمل تحرك الزهور على أغضان جامدة و سيل المياةِ فى نهورٍ جاريةِ .. و أنظُر لهُ فى نفسِك .. فأنت مازِلت حيًا ومازَالت تَهبِط نِعمُه عليك .. فعِش لحظة تحياها الآن ولا تندب حظًا فات أو مستقبلًا لم يأتِ بعد .. 

وإذا لم تُفَكِر في أن تُغيِر نظرة عينيك .. ولم تزل كئيبًا .. فإبعد عني