I was just a simple girl who liked to escape reality through books.
That’s when I met a guy who was good with words.
He knew how to impress people with his charisma even though he wasn’t very handsome.
That was the beginning of my love story.
romantic relationships, mental health, depression, suicide

I stopped hearing about her a long time ago.
When I found out that she was in a relationship,
With someone who was prepared for marriage,
And that they were intending to get married,
I withdrew in a nice manner and wished her all the best.
I mean I know my luck:
I am always too late.

I woke up this morning feeling like… yes, shit!
I stood in front of my mirror and refused to accept the reflection it gave me.
Yes, I am indeed talking about another heartbreak.
Sleepless nights, puffy eyes, and so on.
And you have to sit right there,
And listen to me talk about it,
Because no one else would.

At school, boys and girls were separated.
The boys would watch the girls going home,
And choose one to send a letter to.
Then they’d be together.

No one ever told me not to cry
But for some reason, I knew crying was shameful.
So, basically if you cry, you're not a real man.

I found myself forgetting about the music,
And the fitting Fayrouz lyrics streaming from my earphones.
Forgetting about the book in my hands,
And forgetting my desire to improve my English.
I gazed at her face.

I had a friend during high school,
And things started to develop between us.
I thought it was love at first,
But I found out later on that he was taking advantage of me.

The first time I found a white hair, I stood in front of the mirror for about 15 minutes trying to make sure it was real!
Is this really a white hair? Oh my God! I’m only 22!

It felt as if I was in a wrestling match.
That his purpose was to invade and destroy everything.
That he had no intention to listen.
That survival was for the fittest.

"No, Hatem is such a girl. He's shy and doesn't like talking about asses and boobs and stuff like that!"