I miss you. It’s been a day, two, three. I woke up this morning and it hit me again, he’s married. And the ringing started in my ear again… The question buzzing… “Did he sleep with her, already?”

I closed my eyes. I woke up again, a different ringing, I snoozed the alarm.

And there you were, and ideas of you, in someone else’s flesh, and my head started burning. I pulled back all memories of cold London air and warm you, and I pictured you here with me… But still, all I could really think of was her, and you, and you together.

It’s a crazy thing. This jealousy unleashed itself fully only when we stopped talking. Only when you stopped trying to make me jealous. And only with the silence on your part, and the end of teasing. I know this is the right way to do things, and that staying away for good is the ethical thing to do. But will you? Will I? Will we?

You already called.

And the phone was on my lap then. I looked at it so shocked, it spelled the four letters of your name, and I went over them.. * – * – * – *… over and over again with my eyes. Later when the phone stopped ringing I regained feeling of my body and realized that I’m flushed and my heart is beating in a way similar only to the times I was close to having a car accident… I was going to crash into you, but I did not pick up the phone.

I miss you. It’s my mistake. Have we ever been so close before? No. We talked and joked for weeks, you see, we did not fight. Why is it that we only fight when we are in an established romantic relationship? And you stopped saying you love me for a year.. And left it to the last week before your marriage. Saturated, and long waited for. You are pure evil with your love.

I wish she was here, my craze. You always said I only love you when no one else is around.. How mistaken you are. I could never love you fully because my heart is full to the tipping point with her. But if there were only men in this world, and specifically no women like her… Then I promise, I would have loved you to the drunken point, like the past month… And it’s only because she was away. I blame someone else for my foolishness again, of course.

Did you sleep with her yet, then? I keep dreaming you’d wish it was me while you do. And then I wake up with a slap. Nothing stopped you from marrying me, but you chose her… Why? I don’t even know. You never were good with words. You probably don’t even know why you chose her, yourself.

I wish you a happy life, I do. But I also wish you remember and miss me all through it. And suffer my loss, always, as I am suffering yours.

It seems only yesterday the summer started and I was looking forward to all the picnics and lazy afternoons.

Whatever happened to those lazy afternoons?

Summer flashed by me, mocking me having so much work and so little time for it’s warm invite. The sun slithered teasingly in my room every sunrise, teasing me with it’s rays, and laughed at me while departing at sunset, making misfortunate shapes on my wall. Another warm summer day gone, and no leaving this wretched room.

And now it’s the fall. Cold and crisp. And I miss home. The sun and the dust and the hotness of it all. I want to go home and I want to sweat in the sun, like I always worry I shouldn’t. This thing, the desire to stay clean and smelling like Comfort and Chanel, has to be squashed and spitted on. Live, I say, live! And sweat.

Then shower of course.

It is the luxury of being single. The stupid luxuries. I don’t have to wax my legs, or keep my feet as soft as a baby’s ass. I am very much a living gorilla right now, and I so enjoy it. Not long ago when it was still sunny, I was having a jog in the park, and I sat on the grass afterwards. The sun was playing beautiful colour tricks and I was in awe.. I looked at my arms, and how the sun was reflected on the hair on them, pure magic. I don’t understand why I have to strip them bare when they look so beautiful hairy. Silly tradition, silly culture, silly feminine rules.

Soup.

Sure does warm your heart, and insides. I am getting over a cold. And it is so funny.. I thought it could be hey fever, and not a cold. And then I realized I wasn’t craving cigarettes. My mother always said she hates smoking when she catches a cold. And then I had it, sheer truth, I have a cold, and I am definitely becoming more and more like my mother everyday.

It is almost as though I am in a preparation period. I have changed so much in the years I lived in London. And yet somehow I always plan my life in Kuwait, as though I need to validate these changes by embedding them in my “normal” life. If I go back home, and I am the same undergraduate I used to be years ago, then nothing has really changed.

I can’t ever truly live the way I want in Kuwait though, and this has nothing to do with limitations of the culture (although that is also a problem). I can’t because of the heat, and lack of green. I will miss the pleasant weather (won’t miss the rain). I will miss having a park to sit in close by no matter where I go. And I will miss preparing my own meals and having so much alone time to think and work.

I will not, however, miss being without my family. They are what I miss the most. In fact if they were here, I probably would miss Kuwait much less than I do.

Such vanity, these blogs.

I can write this in a diary, but there is something about seeing it on a screen. I suppose I shall delete all those personal entries at one point. But not today. Today I treat myself to a cup of hot leek and potato soup, and some vanity.

I love you! There! I said it!

She’s soooo lesbian.

I realize that going back home means being once again the only child of two very loving (and controlling) miracle-making parents. I say miracle-making because they may be the last couple I know who are still going strong after over 20 years of marriage.. Which means, of course, that they are kind enough to be there to control my every move when I go back home.

I have not gone too wild, I must confess, in my long stay in the city of broken rooftops and ugly poodles. I have not done drugs and I have not tasted a non-virgin drink (although had the pleasure of tasting a non-virgin woman, I must admit). However, even if my wild days were not too wild, I will miss the freedom and being my own boss. Something silly like keeping my dishes in the sink overnight. Yes,  mother, it is your utter horror here, my life. No one to watch me not separating my whites and colors while doing laundry, and no one to remind me that having breakfast comes before a smoke.

I miss home.

But I will miss having my very own home even more.

So I’m guessing a few more years is not a bad thing after all

7 more hours of struggle with my paper to go, and then I’m off towards the sunshine… Kind of feels like a dream, and I hope BA doesn’t fail me again. Please volcanos, if you must, then try to erupt a bit later this year, please!! I’ve had enough disappointments recently.

I will sleep in your arms tomorrow… (enshallah)

Who says reality is never better than dreams?

One more time I want to have that boat for us. (elsha5toora).To sing for you and me. Mawjoo3 bejroo7 elhawa shu byenfa3o? Mawjoo3 ma be2ool 3alli byoja3o wet3n 3abalo layali elwaldani, ya 6ayr…. One more time I want to have you, all mine, before he takes you away.

I remembered something today… The first time you said you loved me… It was a text message.. I was sitting on his sofa, in his house.. It was his birthday… 2003..

And now he takes you away.

Looking forward to seeing you a bride…
Looking forward to seeing you happy, glowing, even if for someone else.. I want to be there for you, make sure you’re okay, make sure you don’t worry too much and remind you not to frown on…
Looking forward to holding your babies… A baby that lived inside of you… A miracle that I am already in love with! Your children, will they look like you? Will he let you name one after me the way you said you wanted, always, when we said we’d babysit each other’s children?

I am looking forward to all of this. Isn’t it enough that you’ll be in it?
I will not be sad but I will be in pain. I deserve you. And I’m not sure how I lost you in the first place. Way too soon.

Memories are not enough.

https://twitter.com/cruxine

Yes, I finally gave in.

Apart from that, I have to hand in a 2500 words project proposal by friday, which I haven’t started writing yet. Good thing the ideas/words are all crammed in my head, I just hope 4 days is enough time to put them on paper. And on Saturday I’ll be flying – enshallah – for a short holiday coz God knows I need one. I am home sick and need a change of scenery, with disregard to the fact that I’m flying even further away from home – enshallah if volcanos decide it’s time to be civil.

There’s this bug in my room that I can’t seem to get rid of. It keeps flying in front of me, flaunting its speed and taunting my bad aim. I thought fruit flies only lived for a day. Ok, I just remembered that I have an over-ripened banana on my shelf while typing this.. This must be why the fly won’t leave. Idiot!

If every time I get a headache I think I’m dying, does that mean I’m watching too much grey’s anatomy/house md? Or does it simply mean I have too much free time and occupy it by fussing?

There is a good reason for that, in the last week alone there have been three robberies in my neighborhood, and I am not about to go out at night alone today.

So, I’m bored.

Chat me up, someone, please!!!