Dear Big Brother,
You flew across the globe to visit and now you’re going back. Big bro – you have such a rich soul, a kind heart, and an outstanding sense of humor; I never thought saying goodbye to you would be this hard. You’ve been staying with me for a week and today was the day we had to part ways.
I did everything in my power not to cry, but I couldn’t help it. You left an impression here and I really do hope you come back one day. Why did you have to come, be your stupid awesome self, make us like you even more than we already do, and just up and leave? Why was saying goodbye, until next time, so hard? I know I am going to see you again but yet… here I am, wishing that you were still here, hanging out, cracking jokes, and complaining about my not so terrible driving.
I will never forget the times we spent together: shenanigans while playing board games, walks near the river, falling into food comas and ice cream melting everywhere. I want to say thank you though; thank you for everything you’ve done. Thank you for all the advice, the encouragement and for being my partner in crime.
The other day my cousins decided to take me for a motorcycle ride that was so beautifully breathtaking that I was left at a loss for words. We drove out for over an hour and a half before reaching our destination.
We stopped at a small landing near Sannine, Lebanon. I found myself surrounded by mountains. I was in awe at the beauty around me.
We picked what could be classified as the nicest day of the not so cold winter season. It was over twenty degrees celsius, the air was cool and crisp. The sun was shining bright, beating down on our faces just enough to keep us warm but not enough to overheat us.
There was a small house off to the side. I felt slightly jealous, all I could do was imagine myself living there and waking up to that view each morning.
Rolling white snowy mountains.
Landscape coming to life.
A view that could speak.
I believe that music is an important part of the human experience. I have very specific memories associated with certain songs. They each represent something different in my life; these songs either have deep and significant meanings or have been important to me at one point or another.
- Agnes Obel – Riverside.
- Ed Sheeran – I See Fire.
- Joseph Attieh – Helwa.
- Sweedish House Mafia – Don’t You Worry Child.
- Tove Lo – Imaginary Friend.
- Sara Bareilles – King of Anything.
- Kelly Clarkson – People Like Us.
- B.o.B ft. Hayley Williams- Airplanes.
- Gym Class Heroes ft. Adam Levine – Stereo Hearts.
- Glenn Morrison – Goodbye.
I’ve been in a really ‘blah’ mood today and instead of writing something geared towards how I’m feeling I wanted to write about things I’m grateful for.
- Waking up to a brand new day.
- Having a car that gets me from point A to point B easily.
- Drinking tea, because it is soothing for the soul.
- Having food on the table.
- Having a job, even if I don’t want to be there half the time.
- Mom’s cooking.
- Having the access to internet.
- Running water.
- Owning skin care and makeup products (because sometimes looking good and having good skin days makes be feel really good).
- Having family and friends that genuinely care about how I’m feeling/doing.
These are things I wish I could to each of you, but can’t.
- You’ve made me smile each and every time you’ve called me ‘beautiful’.
- Is that one Katy Perry song about you? One minute you’re flirty, the next you’re closed off.
- I really wish things had gone a different way between us.
- What is your problem? What crawled and died up your ass?
- I intimidate you because your masculinity is too fragile.
- I asked for your number not because I was into you; but because I was making connections.
- Stop asking me why I’m wearing makeup and who I’m trying to impress.
- Why did you distance yourself from me?
- I ignore you because sometimes, my mental health can’t handle you.
- Thank you for being such an amazing role model.
Something I miss
I have all the feels about his particular post.
Three years ago (2015) I spent most of my summer in Lebanon visiting family and friends. It still makes me smile when I mention my visit to anyone. I consider it to be the trip of a life time and I can’t wait to go back.
One of my fondest memories from my visit is the time when my cousins and I drove across the country to walk through the Cedars of Lebanon.
As I close my eyes, I can feel the cool, crisp air. The memory of climbing over large rocks and tree roots as I walk down the winding path, brings me joy. The patches of sun beating down on my shoulders and the warmth it brings my body is exhilarating. I can reach out and touch the leaves between my fingers; their texture is soft yet rough. I am at ease with the people I am with.
Family and friends.
The late nights sharing drinks and anecdotes.
The hot days of Beirut.
The family lunches and dinners.
Being called ‘my cousin from Canada’.
Hiking in the mountains.
Swimming in the ocean.
Driving down winding roads to new adventures.
Being teased about my Arabic pronunciation.
Teasing them about their English.
Playing bubble soccer.
Sitting on the beach.
The promises made and kept.
Bar hoping and day drinking.
Dancing in the car.
The shenanigans, pranks, and silly stunts.
The way my aunt and mom used to dance when they were happy.
My uncle’s dad jokes.
‘Kiss me again’ as a recurring curse.
… so, so much more.
But mostly, I miss the experience, and the cherished the memories.
What would happen if you were locked in a room with your greatest fear?
The answer seems relatively simple; keep your distance from said fear and find a way to get the heck out of there. Sometimes it’s not that easy. Our fears aren’t always physical. Sometimes our fears cloud our judgement; and sometimes, our fears are so visceral that they take over us completely.
So, what am I afraid of?
I find questions about love, fear, death and life quite difficult to answer. Death has always been difficult for me. I’ve lost a few people I’ve loved over the years but I was always too young to understand what it really meant. I’ve never been properly equipped to deal with it.
Nor do I think I’m capable of dealing with it now.
When someone I know has a family member or friend that passed away, I do this thing where I try not to let it get to me. I feel like all I can do is offer a hug and my condolences without really understanding what the death of this person meant to them. I tell them that they are in a better place, that they’re happier in heaven, that I’ll say a prayer for them that… I understand how they must feel.
But I don’t.
I’m not afraid to die.
I’m afraid to love.
I’m afraid to lose someone I love.