My father, my lover and my heart

I am not sure I know what does a father love mean, and I doubt also that my small innocent heart has already lived the true feeling of a passionate love.
I have never been sure of anything. This is what the law of probability says and I am not against my logical spirit.
Between my lover and my father, my heart is still confused but I am not trying to fix its feelings anyhow.
I already know what I want and it is enough. I strongly believe that what we should look for isn’t what we need, but what we badly desire.
For these reasons, and for others, I decided to dedicate to each one an exact number of the beatings of my heart.
My father is this superb and wonderful one who brought me to this life. Many people, who knew him, think that I have his shitty character but I don’t care about their opinion. I am proud of it.
I have his curly hair( well, I can make it straight also) and I really love it. I live on my own planet, I like to build, unfortunately not houses as he did, but plans and beauties, and all of this is because I am a part of him.
However, today, he is a memory of my past.
A past that for sure, I am not planning to forget.
A past that no longer affects the strong woman I pretend I am.
A past that I remember with a big pure smile.
And it is also the past that created my present and will lead to my future.
This present I am sharing it with a great man who I deeply thank for all the beautiful feelings I discovered since I welcomed him to my life.
I am not sure whether this present will last or not but I am happy anyhow
For all the laughs, for all the care he gives me.
For all the promises he made and strongly kept.
For his wisdom, which I think is necessary to handle a life with such a crazy girl friend like me.
For his smile that makes me smile.
For his presence and his purity.
For his coming sacrifices that I will reward.
For not judging me with my hair color, my origins, my nationality, my life style and my aims in life, just like many people, who I truly loved, did.
And simply for being a part of my world.. I would like to say: thank you…

In this equation, nothing was chosen but everything was a confident decision that my mind has made.
My heart, as much as my mind, is satisfied because whenever I am alone, I am an individual who lives his choices deeply without anyone’s help or opposition, and this is according to me, the perfect balance that a human being needs to be himself.

Thank you for reading.

I am..........

At this period of the year, most of my school mates are in front of their laptops typing some chapters for the final project. It is what I am supposed to be doing too. But curiously, my feelings needed to draw some lines on a sheet of paper, not to empty my heart but to remove this heavy pressure on my head.

Since I came back from Istanbul I am not feeling good. And I honestly, don’t find the reason of this sadness that makes my daily life a bit hard, lazy and full of disconnection from what I used to do.

I gave up some courses; my studies aren’t going well because of some intern problems.
I am realizing that most of the time, from happiness we can create bigger elements of sadness.

After spending a great week in Istanbul, I came back crying, missing the city of my dreams.
After starting to date this crazy funny and sweet guy thinking that I am not going to get attached, I found myself crying his absence whenever he flies for work.
Well, in clear words. I always arrange the situations and the hazard to involve myself into complicated facts and confusing feelings.
This is me! What can I do?

I don’t know what tomorrow will hold, and I am not going to plan anything for it.
I know it is hard to believe it, but it is been like a month since I last wrote something on my agenda.

I feel so tired, so exhausted to think, to hope, to challenge myself, to dream, and to make those dreams come true, to solve problems, to be active, to help, to be helped, to laugh, to smile, to forget, to be forgotten, to forgive, and to be forgiven.

Today, I simply find it hard. I find it hard to be me.
I find it hard to move on, to stand up, to dream, to be dreamed of, to start from zero what I thought I would have accomplished by the end of the year.
I am so tired of being obliged to smile, to handle with people I don’t like pretending I am feeling indifferent.

I am tired of respecting those who don’t respect anyone.
I am tired of being obliged to remind that I am an individual and a free thinker.
I am tired of listening to people’s opinion about my confident choices.
I am tired of being wise, of having a mind, of selecting my friends to realize I don’t have at all.

I am tired of jealousy, lies, dishonesty, and fake.
And.. I am afraid. I am afraid of weakness because it makes me lose my strength, of self confidence because it may lead me to disappointment, of love because it may not be cured a second time.

I am afraid of facing myself those days but I know I need to
Because I promised the world to give my best before I find myself six feet in the ground, because so many people are expecting so much from me and I don’t want to disappoint, because there is someone who gave to my eyes their sparks back and I don’t want him to think I am a looser

And because I am sure I was born for a reason.

Silent words.

Feelings of the heart.
Days are going and I still not feeling ready to stand up again.
It seems that the last events affected me more than what I have expected them to do.
2009 was this for me:
The accident of my uncle that left him half blinded.
The sickness of my grand father who is now unable to do anything alone.
My trip to France that turned to be a total disaster for my career.
The death of some of my relatives.
It was also: discovering the real face of my “best” friends.
It was: learning to live alone and to do every single thing by myself.
It was: discovering my limits, my capacities, my weaknesses, my wishes, the only person on this planet really loving me and caring for me.
It was also realizing that we can’t get from life all what except.
It was knowing that the decisions aren’t always mines, but when they are I have to take them and go to the end of my choices.
The first love is a total fake in our existence. It’s like a covered sky. You never know what is waiting for you on its other side but that you continue flying above it till you see with your own eyes that the best thing to do is to go back from where you have come.
Unfortunately, flog is always so heavy that covers the brightened way you draw with your feelings at the beginning of the battle.

2009 was also:
The intermediate certificate of Spanish.
My success at college.
My meeting with the great Indian lady who received me in Paris.
Getting closer to my mother.
Changing my hair cut.. HEHEHE. I don’t know if it counts.

Everything in life comes and goes. Happiness exists as long as you live it. What you can’t bring to yourself, no one will bring it to you.
No matter how successful is your life, there is always a fail somewhere which isn’t made to destroy your career but to remind you that you have always to work harder.
Love has no rules, be sure that as much as you love and care for someone, there is for sure someone else somewhere in this world who truly loves you and deserves your feelings.
Experiences are quit hard to forget, sometimes even impossible to erase but time is always here to cure all your pains. The only enigma is how long will it take?
Freedom, following the philosophy, isn’t total. There are always some elements above your powers to stand against you; no matter how hard you try. Destiny is one of them.

If you commit a mistake and you can’t correct it, then just don’t spend your life regretting it.
It has no sense.
I sincerely hope that the coming year will bring more beautiful things to my life and to everyone’s life all over the world.

Thank you for reading.

Number one..

I believe that there is one universe created by one God who is Allah. It has one moon, one sun and one solar system in which one planet human beings can live on.
We people have one father and one mother; we have one life on this planet. We have one mind, one mouth and one heart all in one body.
True love comes once in a life time. We all love to be the number one.
We also love to succeed from the first attempt.
We all dream and hope and when we fail we learn from the first mistake.
We will all die once and till death knock our doors, we curry on our daily tasks divided into two groups: the ones who dream and the ones who get what the others dream of.

We love billion of people who get inside and out of our lives leaving or taking their marks with them but there is only one who is planted deep in it forever: the first love.
Number one: this number that changed my vision to things around me.

Sometimes it draws a hope and in others it takes my smile. Between the happy and hard moments I remember my first steps, my first words with my dad, my first smile with my shining eyes, my first challenge, my first success, my first best friend that I am back to meet these days, the first beating of my heart, the first deceptions, the first time a teacher slapped me, the first time I cried for someone, the first time I had a tea talk, and first times are too numerous.

I don’t know what will tomorrow bring for me, I don’t know if I will be doing something new for the first time but I am quit convinced that each smile is made with our efforts, and new things come within work and beliefs.

Palabras de mi corazón

Sentimientos del corazón.
Estoy de vuelta a escribir en español. No lo estoy haciendo para practicar el idioma.
Tampoco es para tener seguidores Espano- hablantes.
Hoy escribo en español para poder contar lo que siento, para poder expresar una mezcla de sentimientos, de pensamientos y de miedo que no quiero que haya mucha gente que vaya comentando excepto los más cercanos que entienden con el alma lo que mis dedos con errores de gramática ponen sobre esta hoja.

Todo empezó con mi viaje a Francia. Al principio no quería viajar porque estaba pensando en pasar algunos días en Estambul con alguien que echo tan de menos.

En fin, me dieron el visado. Así que fui allí para pasar dos meses de práctica en el sector de hostelería.
Mala suerte la mía, entre racismo, condiciones de vida deplorables, suciedad, falta de respeto y tipos de actividades que no tienen nada que ver con mi trabajo como limpiar, fregar platos, cuidar a niños me corazón empezó a llenarse de todos tipos de ideas de depresión.

Intenté con toda mi fuerza quedarme más allí, pero el estado en el que estaba no me permitió hacerlo, estaba llorando días y noches y empecé a echar de menos mi madre.
Del sur de Francia viajé hacia el norte donde me quedé una semana más antes de tomar el primer avión para volver a argel después de unos gastos fenomenales.

De vuelta a argel, los comentarios allí me estaban esperando explicándome que causé muchísimo daño a mi madre con este viaje.
Además del estado de ánimo en el que estaba, ninguna empresa aceptó dejarme hacer una practica para poder llenar mi cuaderno. Este último evento fue lo que más me puso en la mezcla de sentimientos negativos.

Esperaba irme a Estambul y poder pasar todo el verano en sus brazos.
Me resulta difícil admitirlo. Me resulta difícil admitir, mientras mis lágrimas dibujan ríos que van de mis mejillas tocando el sol al lado de mi ordenador, que este hombre es lo que más deseo en la vida.

Este mismo hombre es el único sobre esta tierra que no podré tener en mi vida.

El viaje que esperaba tomar como vacaciones para mi corazón me hizo pensar y acordarme más de él y como dice la canción “ no pensé que ere amor y lo dejaba correr” y ahora que es amor, sé que no puedo salir de esta situación.

Algunas de mis decepciones en la vida me hicieron tirar la toalla y algunos de mis éxitos me hicieron perder el sentido de la confianza en los demás.
Entre los dos, la culpa nunca ha sido la mía.
Hoy estoy de vuelta, pasando mis días entre los cinco muros destruidos de mi habitación, sin práctica, sin mi amor, y sin gente que me entiende como soy.
Estos son los sentimientos de un corazón callado viviendo una etapa de vacio que me hace pensar de nuevo en el por qué de mi existencia.

How much do you love me? (4)

Some roses, a piece of cake … mom put your Hayek and let’s go to ask
For the hand of the girl that never goes out from her house.
The door opened, her mom was there waiting with a large smile.

She is finally going to have a peaceful life after accepting to give the hand of her daughter because as Arabs say: worries about girls are till death.
She kept the windows opened so that the neighbors know that her daughter is putting the ring today.

In the living room, the father is waiting there. Tables full of all sort of sweets are put.
They all sit together and start the courtesy that doesn’t come from the heart.
The same meaningless questions are being asked and many elements are added to the answer.

It is obvious she had to do that to put all the chances from her daughter’s side.
Does she wear a scarf?
Yea of course, an extremist one and she never go out without me.
Does she cook?
Of course and I taught her everything about all the traditional meals of our country.
My daughter, with thanks to God, has every finger with a different activity that she can do perfectly.
Can we see her?
Of course, Daughter come and bring the coffee.

In an elegant house dress, walking slowly and carefully looking at the floor and using an excess of make up to maker her cheeks red, she enters and propose the coffee to all of them.
Her mom with an ironic voice tells her: don’t be that shy! They are your new family starting by now, while his mother will just make a quick perfect scan from the face to the feet.
She finishes with a common sentence: God bless you! I was feeling confident about my choice.

Remember well this sentence because some weeks after the weeding, she will just start to take her from her long beautiful hair for silly reasons such as cleaning, putting the table, watching tv, or not washing the clothes till the end of the week.

In her mind: he has money, no matter how old, what profession he has, or what are his plans for the future, I will marry him, so that everyone knows that I am nice and superb and they are asking for my hand. And… as my mom says: a man is a man, nothing can affect him, but for us “girls” at a certain age, it is just too late to think of it.

In his mind: I dated a lot, from girls I am just fed up. She is young and good cook, she didn’t go to college. This is just too good, as Arabs say: the cat still have closed eyes.

The main discussion starts and both have to fix what they want.
Her mother: a house for my daughter alone.
His mother: she doesn’t work and stays home, money doesn’t matter as long as she will be a good house wife and a perfect mother.
Shaking the hands is the next step after reading “the Fatiha” to make of them religiously: wife and husband.

The phone numbers are exchanged to know days, weeks, or months before getting married, who is this person that we by hazard decided to build our life with
And that’s how they getting married…….

Finally, I wouldn’t tire myself looking for a reason to make the Arabs stop asking just for the hand and start to ask for the body as a whole with the mind, the fingers and the soul.

Neutral life..

27 August 2009
I opened my eyes like every morning in the same atmosphere.
Today was a monotone day but it wasn’t like the other days.
May be because today I wake up too late. Yeah! It isn’t that bad to sleep till 9am.
The first thing that my eyes saw was the destroyed walls of my room that we are rebuilding again from the interior side.

At this moment I realized that my life was just similar to my walls. It was looking nice from the outside while her inside parts were in deep need of total changes.

My walls are having a new style now, they are being totally changed but unfortunately, my life is still going the same way.
I don’t know which strange feeling is making me think non stop about the last trip I had.

This trip changed my vision toward many things concerning the third world I am living in, concerning the themes of racism, self confidence, braveness, courage, friendship, taking decisions and going to the top of their consequences.
With an empty heart and a full mind my unique solution is to close my window and stay for the whole of the week at home without meeting people. I guess it is something that shouldn’t surprise looking to the state in which I am.

Admitting our mistakes is the first step to changing, and it is so hard for me to do it. It is as hard as accepting to renovate my walls because of the conviction that my room is just too perfect as it is.

It is just too wired to start a neutral summer after a long active year. The loneliness in which I stick these days drives me mad because of thinking without understanding why does each thing go the way it does?
I am not sure of my choices in life. I am not sure the ones I consider as friends really deserve it.

I am not sure of feeling better if I keep living this way but I am quit convinced that either I am given reasons or choices nothing will change as long as I keep looking for a breath in a cube characterized by its lack of oxygen.