Princess of Sulaibikh
Days ago, I have been carrying invisible weights. My head is a fierce war yard, and successive ideas lead my mind to the abyss! The world is a theater of chaos, and people are annoying in an inner way. Their words cause bruises in the heart, and their silence leaves its claws in my mind as well. I want to escape away, but where? There is no escape from myself.
In fact, I do not know anyone who did not feel this madness! All of them suffer from the inside and scream silently, however when they are with each other pretending to be psychological peace in its highest stages! How can they lie in this way? I need to learn!
I remembered – and I am in the darkness of my coffee – that its color quietly recites my soul as well, and I will not be able to salvage except in one way only .. writing! You do not need to be a writer to write, nor to be a specialist in the Arabic language to hold the pen! Fortunately, it is not exclusive to anyone, it’s for everyone, however, a few who try to benefit from this great free opportunity to survive!
I resorted to writing that day. I wrote from myself to myself. It was a hot silver, the tears prevailed in the ink. I was writing like someone who stirred his heart and puts his cut parts on paper. Perhaps one of the reasons why writing is really tired for me, is because I have to dig inside me and reveal my wounds! But I need to do this. Writing is not a luxury, it is an urgent rescue process.
Therefore, my slave, write, because writing means that you are still trying to be a human being, write because writing is a way to stay, I write because writing gives you an audible voice.
And when you write for yourself that introduces you well, stay away from the resonant words, you do not write a love letter or a doctoral thesis! You are trying to arrest your mind before the darkness swallows it, the chaos is drowned and the last breath of patience loses you.
Write and do not try to be logical, typical or wonderful. You do not need to dazzle anyone. Just write everything that is going on in your mind, where the memories, pains and delusions are attached to the source of all misery and the origin of the ideas that feed on them, and your life revolves around it. Your mind is the illness!
On that day when I took the pen and emptied my mind on paper, I sat there contemplating me and as if I met me for the first time. I was surprised because I found something more clear than the mirror .. it’s paper.
So write, write, write to keep your mind the integrity, and so as not to surrender yourself to the abyss of madness!
