Enme

I don't want to live.

On Saturday night, around 9:30pm, I realised I'm going to be alone and lonely for a long time ahead. There's a cosmic block, making it impossible for me to find that one thing I've spent years pursuing, since my years in Sweden: love of a girl.

I'm here now. 12 years on. Nothing to show for. Nothing. Two failed attempts at pursuing marriage, a string of near misses, crash before takeoff, and one-way pursuits, and much mindless, hollow moments of physical connection.

And in between tightly packed moments of failure, there has been rejection.

I was driving home from Melville after my producer telling me, no.. she's not interested. I can report that a part of me fell on its own spear upon hearing those words. I was pretty sure this time. The sublime, erotic tension I was feeling was not just from me… it genuinely came from her too. Her. And the line of failure at the complex.

9:30, I'm lying on my bean bag sideways, trying to escape into the film I was watching and the tears came. I was sad because I suddenly realised that these tears come from a place never tapped before. They were new, fresh, and thoroughly steeped in bedrock of unspoken failure. I know this place and I've written about it and from it, but never cried from it. I ate heartily before these tears came and when they flowed, I felt more satisfied than the noodles I ate. It is the strangest form of satisfaction, mixed with supreme sadness. You finally realise that you're hopeless and that you won't try anymore. You've truly and permanently given up.

I cried and then I slept deeply into the morning. And the rest of Sunday was spent vacillating between crying, cowering on my other bean bag, and watching DVDs back to back. My family was expecting me to visit but going there would have been destructive at the time. It is destructive all the time. I ended up going much later that evening after meeting two Egyptian friends for dinner and escaping into laughter.

I had begged myself to stay true to my sadness and towering depression even if I met them, but as much as I'm driven by failure, I'm also driven by rejection. To be myself and then rejected – I couldn't consciously put myself into that as much as my mind's eye ran rolls of film contrary to this.

I went to my parents' place and felt alone. A difficult discussion with my producer didn't help. A passing comment from my sister seared the situation into stone… she said "Why are you here?".

"To be tortured until I die", I wanted to say. But instead, I responded with hurt eyes.

I went home and ate and watched half of a DVD. And I woke up to see the tone of my week set by the most painful e-mail of many months, only superseded by my former pre-fiancee's e-mails of December.

I was invited to lunch by a friend and her friends. They're well-meaning and beautiful people, but I couldn't face people. The only reason why I had to go meet the Egyptians is that I had to pay one of them money back for buying me something. Because I didn't want to put it off and risk more silent disappointment from my mother.

So I turned down the lunch and then said that I wanted to be left alone when the friend asked me. She somehow took that as a permanent leave-me-alone.

I get a long e-mail, muted in its anger and hurt, but rich in disappointment and indirect chastising. All I wanted was to be left alone today.

It's only 10:10am, 25hrs 20mins since Saturday night. I want to die. I can't handle all this pressure to come out of myself to talk or to explain. I'm depressed and lonely, alone and destroyed. That doesn't mean that I don't want friends. I just don't know how to process them or deal with them or be with them. 

This friend has sent me 3 or 4 e-mails and 1 facebook message which I don't know if I should respond to or not.

If I wasn't such a coward, I would go outside right now and find some way to end my life here and now.

After 17 months with the firm, I've decided to move down. I can say that I have done myself a great service by following a dream, fulfilling it, living it, and now coming out of it, knowing that I didn't let it pass me by.

Next month, I'll be heading back into the world of PHP web development. It's a little bit daunting as my work ethic has taken a serious beating in the last 3 months. I've become very accustomed to doing jack shit during the day. That will come to a sudden end when I start at my new job here.

It's been my first month in the flat and I don't know really where I stand. I enjoy living alone. I enjoy staying out late and coming home when I can. I want to feel guilty about it, but I don't. In a sense, living at home with family is starting to become a past memory. And that's only because the past months have been really traumatic. I think it's obvious from the few posts which have shown up here. I'm writing less and producing less art as I now divert most of my attention, outside of work or errands, into other things – pursuing girls and relationships.

I feel confliced about that. I'm not sure if that's really what I want. I'm not sure if this is who I'd like to be for years to come. My interests and aspirations have deadened since the breakup in December. I'm really only pursuing one thing.

A lot of things died and disappeared with that breakup. Like I was heading speedily towards many goals, excited, driven, passionate about film and writing and everything else I was doing. But the relationship ended and I ended too. The person that I was, that I had been painstakingly building and improving since I moved back from England… that person was gone. He faded away with the tears cried, the confusion felt, the betrayal experienced, the loneliness consumed. He is no longer here.

The only thing right now, a new thing, keeping me connected to a deeper, more engaged self is photography. I can feel my eyes now seeing things and looking for beauty to be captured. And when I read, if I read, I feel that non-existent Mina return albeit in flashes of uncertainty.

In two distinct phases, all that ever defined me as me has vanished, or become so structurally weak that I'm liable to anything breaking me. The first phase was the relationship ending and the second phase was the dissolution of my family as a sanctuary and place of identity. In that second phase also, I've seen my quest to acquire Egyptian identity, something precious to me where words fail, cease. I came to see what it meant to be Egyptian in multiple scenarios and I could not think like that all or live like that or act like that. I suddenly became alien to something I thought lived in my heart, secure.

If before I said I was a second-generation, immigrant Egyptian, I now say I'm even more an Orientalist than I was. I speak Arabic but I'm not Egyptian. I understand and love the culture, but it's not my own. I'll always be an outsider. Always. To any culture, no matter how much people are well-meaning. I will always be struggling to fit in, to learn a whole new idiom and world of people. I will always feel like nowhere is my home except where I force it to be. There is no one place where I'm naturally welcome because everywhere, I'm a foreigner. Une etranger.

I watch movies still and listen to the music, but I do it as an employee of the culture, not as a shareholder, not as someone who lives in the house of the owner. I'm an indentured servant, hired to render it to the best of my love and capacity, given my foreigner status. As much as I can fool anyone around me that I grew up in Egypt all my life, I can't fool the truth – that I'm a foreigner in my own culture that I love so much.

No effort of mine will make me more Egyptian or not. I will always be on the periphery. I spent years and years of my naive and pure innocence, loving this culture and people who were never prepared to accept me. There would be always have been the point where no effort of mine could render me a native.

"Last sanctuary falls…" It fell at home. I feel like a stranger too in my own home. I used to wake up and just hunger for someone to come in and ask about my life, like my sister would get. I used to want to be accepted and validated by my parents. I used to want to be understood and encouraged by them, in everything that I do. I used to want to be just as I am with them. But when it became critical, they chose their own identity and culture over me.

Now… I'm just this drone. An aprosopic drone with no direction or real drive. No home or real final resting place. I have my own flat now – my own nest – but it's empty. There are no people.

I've been fighting this for many, many years. I feel it's time to embrace my loneliness, singlehood, and lonesomeness. It's time to stop wanting to be with people and understood by people and accepted by people and welcomed and embraced by people. Enough years of my life wasted, from family to friends, on a pointless endeavour like this. Live on my own, rejoice when a loved one enters, don't be disappointed when they leave, and in between those rare times, just accept the fact that you're on your own.

I'm working on telling myself that I'm money and last night proved that. I'm alone, but I'm money.

I'm alone, but I'm money. I think. I hope so.

I was digging through a Google Doc for some info and I stumbled upon an informal list I put together when I left my job at Oxford Brookes Uni in 2006. I had put in a bunch of names of people and a few notes. I found a note next to a name of a girl. Which girl? Remember a few posts ago, I talk about how eerie it is that 3 girls I've known all know eachother? One of them. The summer romance one.

The note said: [it has been sanitised to protect the people's identities, although every part of me feels they deserve some shame]

"******** clone, really pretty, captivating eyes, the smily demeanour that would usually say 'im friendly and transparent' but actually its saying 'im prepared to use you in some way because im hurting', the girl and type of girl that always catches my eye. always. but hey."

Used me, she did. And caught my eye, she definitely did. And it's ironic that 2 years on from when I wrote this note, I spent a lot of my time and heart on this girl, to only have both shat on.

Always check your sources.

There was nothing after Eerie. She never responded. And I didn't follow up or anything. I left it be. A variety of reasons may exist, and I don't want to know. I trawled through her profile a few times, tracked her wallposts and photos for a bit, but never contacted her directly again. The only thing I did after Eerie was that I added her to AIM. I haven't seen her online. I'll remove her.

I don't know if I mentioned in my previous post or not that I messaged one of the three girls whom are now linked together by Facebook and my prior involvement with them. But yeah, I did. It was a breezy, simple message: just to say 'I'm here and not to weird you out.'

She replied.

I was absolutely shocked. Beyond belief. And her message was more than just the frosty 'you again?' but laced in social niceties. It was a genuine message. It started out with 'Of course I remember you'. And then, it goes into the detail you provide when you're catching up with someone. I guess it's been long enough that she doesn't feel weird around me. But I can't help but feel that she was just waiting for me to reply. I don't know… it's all very out there.

But I replied back, in my usual guarded yet genuine way. I told her about my life, where I am, the job. I ended the message with a genuine compliment and and another breezy 'if im in your neighbourhood, we could meet if you want' to test the genuineness of her tone and style.

We'll see. It pales in comparison with the recent messages and communication from Vacation Romance; I can feel cold air blowing onto my face.

We will see.

I'm trawling through Facebook aimlessly at 3am. Looking up past flames. Drowning in looking at pics of happy friends and group of friends, far removed from me.

I come across the profile of one girl whom I had a vacation romance with. I miss her from time to time; we had very good conversations, we connected on intellectual levels, and we shared a kiss in a windy Oxford park that although attempted, I can never forget. The touch of her hand against my face…

Sorry. I digressed. Looking at this profile.. it becomes apparent that.. she's friends with two other girls from Oxford. The first.. was a girl I loved so deeply and one who trashed me so mercilessly. I saw her name and the link to her profile available. I decided against contacting her. That was 5 years ago. She's married and happy. She made a serious point of ignoring me and blanking me for months and years. I don't think she'll change now.

The second girl is one I had an intense night of dancing and fun with in Oxford about 3 years ago. All of all places, in Fuzzy Duck's, we shared a kiss. It was a long time ago, but it is still memorable. I was drunk that night and I got too much for the girl. That was the last time I hung out with her. There were a few other times of bumping into eachother. And various e-mails and text messages to make sense of why it had to end so abruptly. But it did.

I decided to private message her on FB in the most friendly way possible, not referencing or hinting at anything that happened. But more like the tone you take with someone you're reconnecting with after many years.

It's jarring and frightful that the 3 girls I really had something with all know eachother. In a dark nightmare, I can only see them one time, randomly, discussing me after one person casually drops my name into the conversation. Vacation Romance would maybe say he's strange and a wimp. Great Love would say he's an asshole. Fuzzy Girl would say he's too full on. Maybe they'd laugh about me and at me. Maybe…

All involvement with 3 girls ended with muffled crying into a pillow after realizing it will never be.

One remaining draft is left in my drafts folder in Gmail. It's the breakup e-mail I was going to send, but didn't. The contents came out anyway in the discussions running up to and what formed the breakup.

I'm about to delete. Reading it.. I realise… that I'm moving on. I'm somewhere between moving on and moved on. I can think back to the day when I wrote it, the anguish I was in. That was me. Fully me. Unlike other episodes of my life, I can remember this one very well. It hasn't disappeared. It won't. I love her too much. The day will come when I will say,'I loved her too much.'

I've sanitised the e-mail to maintain privacy on details between me and her. This will be the last place, away from "me", where this e-mail exists. Update: I won't be posting the e-mail here. Even as I sanitised it, I realised it was still private; it still told exactly of what went wrong between us. And I'm not sure I want everyone to know. I'm content with people knowing it's over. But not details.. last night, I was feeling flippant, it seems.

I just had a strange exchange with her. She had indicated she wanted to talk again. So, I got ready and initiated serious contact on Saturday. Now, she's saying she's feeling raw and needs more time and distance.

I'm frustrated and put off. And I can't help but feel this is some game she's playing. She made the e-mail sound like I'm the one running after her, wanting to talk. How wrong you are. And she dares to say I was quiet and reserved on the phone. What do you expect?

I'm calling your bluff. I'm ending this unnecessary weirdicity. I won't be talking to you again, not now, not later. You want to talk? You come and find me. And you e-mail me. You run after me. And don't be surprised if I ignore you and never reply. Because I won't. Maybe not for months.

I'm sick of this back and forth, even as we're broken up. This power play you want to engage me in, you who said you want to be equal and not play power games.

I loved you so much. I'll never know how you work. I'll never understand how you can be who you are. In this exact moment, I hear Amy Winehouse belting out Back to Black in my mind and I see words driving past my eyes, words from your e-mails, iChats, and phone calls. It's like I'm headed for the dark town on the edge of my consciousness. Where our relationship now lives along with my other attempts for marriage and love that never materialised.

I'm so angry right now and all I want to do is call you up and yell at you. And return every dagger and every spear. And vomit bile and rage at you, like you did at me. Hurl you around, manhandle you with the carelessness and complacency you did to me. I want to exact revenge on you out of extreme hurt.

You'll always take me granted and think you'll find me conveniently at the end of a phone call, text, e-mail, or IM message. You won't.

You'll never find me again. Never. Never. Ever. I won't pick up the phone when it says Unknown. I won't answer messages or e-mails. I won't act on prompts from the common friends and acquaintances between us. I'll give you your wish and more. You wanted more communicative distance? I give freely and more than I sometimes have to give. I'll give you complete separation.

My love for you is turning into hate and resentment.

Bye, Mouse. The moment is here.

Seems like no trip to Chicago. No holiday much needed.

And a close – …. formerly close friend now engaged. She engaged and I single. She following a process over months and I.. nothing.

She's always held a sweet spot in my heart. It's a sparse spot with one painting hung up. 'What if?'

I'll never know the answer. I'll be taking down the painting for burial shortly.

Life is cyclical. Back in July, I was here, in this exact same place, grieving over never having done anything constructive with that girl. In July, that place was about her being involved with the guy. 6 months on, the place is about her being engaged.

I go to and fro, and I end up in the same place, failing over and over again, watching others find happiness and permanence.

I don't even have a friend anymore. I miss her friendship deeply. I neither have her as a friend or as a potential partner.

I have nothing.

I'm single again. It's very, very hard. I had just gotten used to being in a relationship after struggling, often without pain, for 2 months, readjusting to the emotional landscape of a relationship. I had started to wake up to this reality and was making changes to accomodate everything I'm involved in on a daily basis.

And then, over the course of a week, the relationship deteroriates further until it ends. I end it.

I check my e-mail constantly, thinking there's something coming through from her. I look on Facebook to see her profile and watch changes to her status message. I come on MSN and I see her on-line, and I toss and turn, trying to decide whether to message her or not.

But, my feelings become clear and I don't message her. As much as I want to. I want to e-mail her everyday, I want to talk to her everyday, I miss her.

That's that compartment. In the other compartment, it's quiet, still, and cold. There, I'm angry. Really angry. Once I'm there – there must be some connecting door -, I stand by my silence and reluctance to talk to her.

It will take a while to resolve all the anger, resentment, and bitterness I have for her.

I barely had a chance to process being back from England. I barely had a chance to look at the framed photograph with fondness or pining. I barely had a chance to stop and say,"I miss her. I'll see her soon. I'll see my baby soon."

Instead, we argued, fought, sparred, and bickered for 1 month straight. I had to defend myself, my words, my actions, and my plans all the time. Never a time to breathe, relax, or recoup. Constant. endless. hurt. And frustration.

Now, I'm single and I'm not used to it. Life is empty and still. Work is short but empty. Being at home is hard, everything in my room reminds me of her. The only thing that is different and untouched by her is my film work. There, I can be on my own.

I was on my way to getting married. It was going to be my first long-term relationship. And now it's gone! GONE! GONE! I love this girl more than anything, but I can't be with her. She hurt me and I can't let it go.

She still has hope for the future. For a second chance. … 

There's nothing new or amazing or insightful. It could be a rehash of what I've told friends and family. But this is all that's running through my head constantly.

I miss you terribly. But I'm angry, hurt, and resentful. How could this end? I stand by my decision, but I still can't fathom how this ended.

I love you.