دعنى أُحَدِثُكَ عن خجلى

أسدله على أكتافى

فتحمل ثُقل السنين

حملاً أضنو به

ويغمرنى حنين

الى أمان ليس منى

فقط من آخرين

 

ويمر بى أناس لهم مئات عيون

يتحاشون النظر وتزدرى الجفون

وتتأسف الشفاه بصمت وزموم

وتنفرج قليلاً للضرورة بالسكون

 

فأنا ما عدت أنا

إذ قابلت سماء الله برأسى

فأنا ما عدت أنا

إذ أظهرت ضعفى

فأنا ما عدت أنا

 

ولو أننى أنا…بوجودٍ ظننتنى فقدته منذ زمن

ولو أننى أنا…بضمير زادت حياته حياه

ولو أننى أنا…بقُربٍ يَرْهَبُ الرحيم

ولو أننى أنا…بعقلى وسِرى وفحواى

وإننى أحاول…ان أصاحب خجلى..أيضاً

وأتحدث وأحاور وأنظر فى العيون…وأكثر

 

وتهرب من قلبى دقة

حين يسود الصمت لحظة

حين يشيح النظر عنى بصدمة

وحين يتكلم وكأنه لا يرى

ويصير من هو..هو…بعيداً..متكلفاً…ممثلاً…

ويصير المعنى…هزلياً سخيف

وأشعر بغُربة..وأُرَبت على نفسى..

وتظل القاعدة: هذا أيضاً سيمر

 

أشياء تَجُبّ أشياء…أحوال تُغَير أحوال

وأنا…يتقلب فى جوفى الليل والنهار

وأتغير فى روحى كالفصول

ويظل قلبى واحد…يعشق الجبار

يخاف …يرجو الرحمة…مرة أخرى

يرجو الفرصة

مرة أخرى

ويرجو الصفح…والتفهم…وتقدير حرية الإختبار

 

فالطريق يجب أن يُطرق

والإجابة يجب أن تَصدُق

والمآل يجب أن يُدرك

رسالة الى تاج راسى

بحبك

مع انك مغيرنى …بس بحبك

مع انك طوق حوالين رقبتى

 ولجام حوالين دماغى

بس بحبك

بستخبى فيك

بدارى جنانى بيك

لاففنى بأمان وحفاظة

وبحبك

أحياناً بزهدك…

بزهدك علشان أشترى عيون الناس

قبول الناس

بزهدك

وبتحرر منك

علشان أتنفس

عشان أحس انى والسما واحد

عشان البحر يغرقنى فيه

عشان احس ان الهوا سكن شعرى وطار بيه

برجعلك بقلب

زى ما بزهدك بقلب

برجعلك واعيطلك تسامحنى

عشان بحبك

ده مش تخلى

ده مش نُكران

ده مش كُفر بيك

ده مش عصيان

ده…مش عارفة ده ايه

 

انا انسانة…زى ما بحبك

ساعات بقلب عليك

او…او بس هو الهوا…والمية…والسما

وشمس حامية ترجع فى عروقى الحياة

وعيون الناس اللى بتحضنى من غيرك

بتلهى بيهم عنك

بس برجعلك

علشان حبيتك

اوي… حبيت سترك…حدودك…

استكانة عفاريتى بيك…استكانة مُريحة أوووووى

بتحبنى وطاير جنبى؟

مسامحنى وحاسس بحبى؟

طب افتكرلى حاجة حلوة

يوم ما اتشتمت بيك

يوم ما اتهجرت ليك

يوم ما اتهمشت عشان جريت عليك

حياة ابوك ما تزعل منى

عشان ساعات بزدريك

افرح

افرح انى مش بنافقك

افرح انى بصدق بحبك…وقت ما بحبك

ووقت الخنقة بعفيك

من لومى وزلتى

ع الاقل انت فى حياتى امانة

مش بخونك ..انا كنت بستسمحك

بستسمحك انساك

واعيش من غيرك

بستسمحك وببعد من غير ما اسيبك 

شايف رجوعى بحب

كان الاجازة من غيرك كانت وحشة

كان من غيرك انا وحدى فى وَحشة

والله بحبك

اقبلنى كما انا

حريتى فى حبك غِنى

حريتى انى اخترتك..بقلبى وبعقلى وبايدى انا

الخيانة مش البُعاد

الخيانة ابقى لازقاك فيا وكرهاك

وانا حباك

تلاتة بالله العظيم حباك

وشرياك

وعايزاك

إيشاربى يا إيشاربى…

سامحنى لو غلطت …شِعرى كله فداك

And to my surprise, men get it!

Sometimes it feels lonely in the ethical world.

Sometimes, I and many others i know feel lonely as we practice our beliefs because we feel better about ourselves while we do…yet some other people might see these beliefs as unrealistic, unnecessary or just weird.

We live anyway, feel proud anyway, brag about our ideals anyway.

Sometimes we fail our own beliefs but because we are already familiar with them we would always reach a point where we remorse and retreat back to a higher bar of values, that would make us feel good about ourselves again.

I, like many, when i embrace values that are not so common among the -modern society- i feel lonely sometimes…but the most refreshing thing happened to me the other day.

Let me take you back to the Summer of 1996…I was in my last college year (studied Law btw) and my Lebanese hunk of a cousin came to visit Egypt for 18 days…His mother is Egyptian so he had a nice humor and a special machoism added to his gorgeous appearance.

a few days later something just clicked and we had a super summer -totally innocent- crush ever!

He extended his visit to be one month then returned to Beirut.

We both discovered later on that a proposal was fought big time within the family…

I got married and each of us lead his different life…only a family call or email here or there kept us in touch every couple of years…but one day, about a year ago and while i was married, he decided to call me…he was emotional…I apologised politely as i felt against talking to someone i had any sort of history with while i’m married…time passed…I got my divorce and just the other day he knew from his mom so he called…we talked a nice welad khalah conversation and suddenly he said: I want to express my total respect for you…Because you were truly exceptional refusing to receive my emotional call although I AM YOUR COUSIN out of respect for your husband.

My smile was so big my cheeks hurt…MEN GET IT!! someone thinks my too much cautious is respectful…someone recognizes a value so alien today i am called mo3aqada because of.

Men respect the respectful…they read the gestures…they value the valuable.

Men, might seem OK and encouraging when we want to lose it with them and get involved in any habal…that’s because they react to an open invitation that instincly they can’t refuse and of course they’ll say and do anything to get it.

It was not a big thing…it was just a phone call…but the rule was clear in my head…the mere presence of a husband was a clear criteria for me.

Speaking of which…Women, as mo3aqadeen as i am get those 3o2ad from a very special place in their lives btw…I am speaking of mature independent women, we aren’t born with values and we have out grown the strict fatherly cocoon that keep us safe.

We have simply gotten ourselves burned/or watched closely a loved one doing it  at some point by false concepts and delusional modern dreamy sweet talk that attempted to rip the dignity and coat it with a short-term delicious sin…that burn is the base that we build a strong life path upon and a solid set of values on.

We all burn ourselves and we all allow others to hurt us at some point of our lives…but only the proud…the graceful…and the authentic know when to face the hurt and build a new vision with it.

In the phone call, I have wished my cousin the best in life…He wished me the same and we hung up as friends…no emotions were there, at least from my side…nothing but a sweet memory and a lovely recognition.

And it may feel alone in the -good world- but the time will come when something refreshing will happen and all the alienation will feel sooooooo worth it.

المَحْزوقات

حَزَقَ الشىء..أى حاول إخراجه دفعاً الى الخارج بصعوبة

الشىء بقى اللى بيتحزق هو المحزوق…وجمع الشىء : أشياء …وجمع المحزوق: محزوقات

الحزق شىء طبيعى فى حياتنا…قد نحزق أشياء سيئة نود التخلص منها لنبرأ من ضررها زى “االكى كى” مثلاً…وقد نحزق أشياء جيدة “كالطفل الوليد” مثلاً لتنتهى فترة إعداده داخلياً وتبدأ حياته الفعلية

إنما مجازاً وفى الحياة اليومية الواحد بيمر بده أو بيشوف آخرين بيمروا بيه…أنا هنا أقصد التشبيه ومش بتكلم على زيارة الحمام

قد تحزقك فكرة جديدة فى العمل وتبقى مش عارف تقعد على بعضك عشان نفسك تطلع الفكرة ومديرك يوافق عليها فترتاح وتحس انك انجزت حاجة

وقد يحزقك رأى منيل فى حد او غيظ منه فتقعد ” تنفس”  يمين وشمال بالتلميح والتصريح تمهيداً للحزقة الكبرى

وانا رأى ان لو حزقك اوى انك شايف نفسك “هايل” وشايف غيرك “خرى” وعايز تنطره…بسيطة من غير حزق وحرق دم وتلطيش…اعتبر انه جه قالك” انا خرى يا هايل” وبس…لكن تلسن عليه من ناحية وتقوله يا روح قلبى من الناحية التانية يحولك من حازق الى محزوق..

مشكلة المحزوقين فى محزوقاتهم انهم شايلين هم صك الغفران على طول

وانا ست لطيفة احب الناس تبقى حسه لطيف زى…لذا ، انا بقدم النهاردة عرض خاص…عندى عشرين صك غفران…اى حد عايز صك مكتوب فيه بخط بولد أندلسى مقاس 16: انت هايل يلا…وفلان:……خرى

أى نعم الصك مش حيمحى بلاويك ولا حيأكد بلاوى الناس اللى حزقاك انما مريح…حيريحك من الحزقة

بس بجد بقى اللى حاسس انه بيحزق كتير وعمال على بطال لازم يشوف علاج…لان الحزق المزمن ده يدل على مرض عضال…بينفخ الذات اوى فى الاتجاه الغلط…انا عارفة ان معظم المحزوقين بيبقى عندهم كبر متضخم وغالباً ده سبب حزقتهم….

أما عن المحزوقات الكويسة…الكلمات اللى فيها حب…الافكار المشجعة…النيات اللى فيها مصلحة الغير…دى بتبقى حالة لازملها ملين بسيط للشجاعة…الحب والتشجيع والمصلحة لازم تبقى حاجات سهلة التعامل معاها…لازم تخرج للنور…زى البيبى كده…لازم يتولد عشان يعيش ويسعد اهله ويفيد الدنيا بخيره

إذا…حكمة اليوم: محزوق؟ خُد مُلين

 

Force Sandwich

In my book, I expressed how the manifestation of force shocked me…How the sight of hundreds of guys in black costumes and the sound of their pounding feet on the ground and the grip of their hands on innocent protesters grinded my heart…I expressed all that and more, and it was like losing my “naivety” to the police force on Jan 25, 26 and 28.

 Fear broke the platinum curtain that hid dimensions of evil I have never been aware of.

 Now, I like all, have a brand new format that included practical politics, a country and respect of our right to a will.

 But now, on daily basis, I see other forms of fear…Fear from the sight of endless numbers of guys in ordinary outfits and the sound of their everyday noise and their hidden fists.

 Everyday my colleagues, my mom, in emails, on the radio, in mobile text and on the internet, everyone is warning us from the road traps that muggers create (rather innovatively I must say) to rob people and hurt them by the way.

Warnings like:

– Don’t drive in an isolated road alone.

– Always keep your window up.

– Never stop if someone asked your help or if you see a woman crying with a child on the side of the road.

– If someone threw eggs on your shield don’t turn on the sweepers, it runs milky and you’ll have to stop to wipe it and muggers will attack then.

– Don’t drive at night alone

…..etc.

My first reaction, is the same reaction I have when at some point of my life someone told me that women cheat on their husbands as much as men do, and when I knew that there was male prostitution in Egypt, and when someone would point at a car full of young dudes and say: oh…they’re shooting drugs!

My first reaction was always: OF COURSE NOT!!

Out of ignorance, I always refused to believe that such ugliness and evil existed to that extent.

I just wanted to believe that very very very few women could cheat…as I wanted to believe that only one half of the human kind are that weak…I needed to feel that families have a good shot at surviving human nastynesses and its results.

I just wanted to believe that manhood: the father figure, the provider, the strong protector, the support, the wisdom and the loving spouse could never sell himself…that when women through out history did that, it was because they had no respectful father/spouse…or self value.

I just wanted to believe that drug users are not that much and do not feel that their problem is that mild to the extent of showing it on the streets and that they wouldn’t drive high and risk killing people.

I know how silly, half logic and how far from reality my thinking was.

 But I never thought that after growing up enough to realize fully the amount of potential evil in myself and in other people, that I would still meet those warning with the disbelief I had.

 I had to see for myself to believe.

 I had to see two trucks hitting intentionally a police microbus carrying no one but a driver, the two trucks that were driving to the left and to the right of the police microbus kept coming closer together till they made the police microbus a sandwich and totally ruined the sides of the car.

The poor driver didn’t even wave an arm.

He kept moving…He met fear of people…He knew he was to be tortured if he would stop.

Ordinary microbuses and taxis break your mirror because you happen to be driving in a lane that they see more appealing.

 Beggars on a desert road -that I take everyday to reach the office- frighten people not ask them for help.

They pound on shields and they approach ladies inappropriately.

 A colleague was robbed the other day and the egg plot was used on her.

 Fear people feel from ordinary looking people could be traumatizing as you can never anticipate when it’s going to hit.

 My main concern is this: How can we reach truck and microbus drivers, beggars and such angry segment of Egyptians to spread awareness on the importance of having security in our streets?

How can we…who will do this?

Those Egyptians don’t have facebook (how I feel so alienated from them now), many won’t be able to read flyers and of course they have no time to watch TV.

 Don’t we need to work with them…face to face…with a nice attitude and in down to earth tones and language?

 Will it be an only guys plan?

I am brainstorming here…suggest…spread…do whatever you can.

But what we must all realize here, whether we are egyptians or not…The real deal is not only about changing titles and names…The real deal is not only about force…The real deal is not about slogans or even meanings we are newely trying to taste/indulge in…

The real deal is about all the aspects…aspects that show in neon lights or in tabloids and aspects that is so deep and so rooted in the very mud of our land that many of us don’t even realize.

The correction plan need to work to reform all aspects as we might be correcting the frame of the country, but without the real people of the country nothing will be worth it.

King of the world

Life has three dimensions:

– Allah and the greater picture he controls or allows others to choose paths in,

– Ourselves and how we cope and interact with others in our lives,

– Others and what they do to us.

And no body is smart enough or strong enough to have the upper hand in every dimension…Only Allah has that ability because he created it all.

We, merely try to survive…we merely try to out smart the plots, heal the wounds and climb a hill or two and call it “life achievements”.

As passive or helpless as it sounds, i believe in the great strength that lies beneath the mere life trials we commit to and change as we grow.

It takes a lot of energy and a lot of time, sweat and heartache, dedication and faith to merely survive life with all what Allah grants/ tests us with, with all our history and our tendencies, and with all what people brings to us.

I can’t Imagine what it would be like if Allah had given us the opportunity to more control over life…It would be frightning…Life would not have gotten so far as humans would have ruined it…

Having an unknown dimension to life pulls the break on arrogant human behavior and people tend to tone down the harm they can and would inflict on others just because they have a careful feeling about what life can do to them next…see, karma or whatever we call it tends to hunt us back for what we do, not to mention what would happen in the after life (only it counts if you believe in god).

Looking at the other two dimensions…well, our relationship with ourselves is the only thing we have control onto…how others treat us and how others are is never guaranteed…one minute they are your friends, the next minute they put a knife in your back…

But selves are as MAD as it could be…selves need rules, selves need faith, selves need a clear path, a decisive brain to plan how they would lead the road…selves are..well, messy…all we, or to be more precise, all I could do is trying to tame it, try to stick to the plan although the bigger picture and people try all the times to mess it up and push me off the road…and I do,

I try, with all my power i try, I rewrite my book and edit it all the time whenever my mistakes teach me a lesson or i get hurt by people’s cruelty or when i discover how my math was messed up…I rewrite and amend and try again to stick to the plan in hopes of achieving the goal…and my goal is to live life as good and peaceful and pure as i could possibly can, and to die with minimum package hoping for the mercy of god.

I promise myself to never live arrogantly as if I’m “king of the world”…as i know that on earth, all kings are fake…all kings are fake!!

A People’s Country

Hmm…I just had a very nice bubbly chain of thoughts.

What if a certain group of people purchased a big BIG Land somewhere…

They would then sit down and put laws and regulations to maintain their compatible life on the land. (I would have a senior part in that process)

They would plant their food and get cows, chicken and sheep…they would trade home-made goodies like Jams and preserves and bakery…everyone would make what he knows best and they would trade…for money or for goods.

The best teacher would teach the kids and the best Doctor would cure the sick and whoever is a skilled architect will build the houses and the greatest fashion designer will make clothes…people will work either individually or in groups…all will give to all and will take from all…everyone will then have a fair share of everything by rule!

Needed city materials would be bought from the city…they will sell their excess goodies and buy what they want.

They would elect a new principle each YEAR…without any campaigns…and no one will run for it…people would submit their selection based on general production and manners.

Private lives would be maintained but a big monthly picnic will gather everyone for a nice lunch in the open.

A poetic platonic thought??

Well…maybe…but it would be an ideal life, at least for me.

I think that eliminating the rush of power and money and bringing them down to the basics would make a fair environment for kind people to live in.

🙂

Actually I know what I’ll be doing…I will bake muffins and teach kids for a living.

I will plant some mint, basil, parsley and lettuce…maybe eggplants and tomatoes too (I can’t live without eggplant recipes).

I will write all the short stories i can think of and make many books…i bet publishers on the “people’s country” will be nice and sweet…wow…i’ll trade my stories for services and goods…I am happy just for the thought.

Oh Oh and I would sing for kids or at house parties or weddings…hmm…no…just for kids 😀

There would be no corporate coldness…no double standards…no cruelty.

And whoever breaks the rules of the country will have to attend to a country council and a civilized action will be taken.

Anyne will be free to leave and anyone who wants in will have to prove he’s compatible.

It will be a country inside a country…any country.

 Do you think it would be boring?

Think again, as humans will get to practice all human sillinesses and faults…but within a reasonable margine 😉

* Part of Jessyz Thursday thoughts.

Lady Mosquito against the Math

So, Lady mosquito was wandering by the water canal…trying to decide whether to sting the donkey that was taking a bath in the canal or the guy who sat there listening to the radio and watching the sunset.

Lady mosquito thought against having her dinner feast from the donkey, after all…it was grey…too grey…and it looked like his owner had no idea about the basics of bathing.

The romantic guy watching the sunset was a yummier promise, so… the mosquito directed all of the hunger in her into a quick fly towards the guy…she aimed for the neck, the juicier part but to her surprise the guy turned his head suddenly after a woman covered in black, with mud up to her knees called at him…the mosquito was about to crash onto the back of his neck (aka 2afa) but she managed to make a slick manoeuver; yet, she hit something she didn’t see and felt like falling into a narrow curvaceous tunnel.

Seconds passed before she realized she was inside something alive!

she got used to the darkness and managed to hop along the tunnel…she was positive she’d find a way out if she kept moving so she did…and suddenly a huge pale-pink body that produced a very strange vibe shocked her so hard that her tiny extra thin legs melted and were glued to the slimy ground.

The radiations and flashlights blinded her but she was dazzled from the magnificent world she has entered, up until the colored lights formed pictures and sounds that were familiar to her.

“Those pictures and those sounds are human like…oh my god, am i in a human theatre?!”, she questioned.

There was no more time left for her speculations…what was happening in the reoccurring scenes and sounds were amazing enough to shut her mind…she was becoming an enchanted observer…

There was a sound of a man apparently speaking to himself:

“I am a helpful person, a sensitive human being and i have to help out my friend so lets see…ten years ago he supported my promotion request + last fall he bought me a very nice present + when my leg was broken he drove me to work everyday for three weeks = I have to submit to his request and let him ride with me when i take off to Alex…I feel better now being a generous person…afterall…he is going to Alex to visit his dying mother”

The mosquito saw pictures of every incident in the man’s equation and his voice was the back ground…and that tiny hair that was dangling down her head…the hair got electrified while she said: WTF…what a cheap ass!!

Suddenly the slimy ground moved from side to side strongly and she felt like fainting…the most annoying sound overwhelmed the cavity she was in…apparently the man with the voice was in pain…he kept moaning loudly saying: “What the hell is this buzz in my head…it is like a thousand thorns  penetrating my brain.OHHHHHH”.

She realized that she was INSIDE the man’s brain…she was then terrified and she was about to cry and moan herself when she remembered that she could feast over his delicious bloody brain…but again, fear inhibited her and she thought: “what if brain blood is bad for me?! I can’t afford increasing the bad cholesterol any further..enough with all the unhealthy humans i feast from…no…I’ll wait for a clean patch of skin before i suck into a tiny vien…an arm or a leg where all the action happens to clarify the blood stream. I’ll stick to my diet!”

a strong light came from down the tunnel she walked through earlier, and she thought: “could this be it…the  light by the end of the tunnel…am i dying” and she panicked…then she heard someone saying: “your ear tract seems infected but i can’t figure out why…we need more tests…for the time being i’ll prescribe something that will take the pain away…and the buzz”

Another picture glowed in front of her eyes…It was of a man in a white coat shaking hands with a short yet chubby man surrounded by four extra-large men in black suits and sunglasses, then that man handed the one in the white coat a briefcase, the other thanked him and said something that sounded like a promise: “The minister will be taken care of…he is “old” and “sick” and enough is enough…he needs the “rest”…being a veggie ain’t all that bad…not to anyone…after all he won’t be dead…just brain damaged hahahaha” then another shared the laugh…his voice was similar to the one she is now glued to his brain…

She freaked out again…tried as hard as she could to move her feet but she couldn’t…then she screamed: “what the hell are you?? a gangster??get me out of here!”

Another picture with loud sounds broke the silence…the same three guys sitting in a huge Hall surrounded by many men each had a microphone in front of him and each wore a suit and everyone was exchanging little pieces of papers that contained business proposals, pay offs, favour requests, appointments, curses and promises…the most frequent word repeated in that huge place was “the parlimant”…a word she has never heard of before…then boom…the picture was gone.

The man moaned a bit then he was totally silent…only a rhythmic sound of his breath was heard…she then saw a vague picture of floating clouds with things written in them…calculations…equations…quotations:

(10 000 000 to approve illegal shipment + 2 000 000 commission from the north coast land – 3 000 000 price of villa for samira the mistress = 9 000 000 net profit for the month)

(money+power) x 10 more years = eternal happiness in my beautiful country side villa by the water canal.

(I have to get rid of sheikh osman…the guy is offensive…he calls me a criminal and acts like he means well and keeps nagging about my redemption…he has to go…no one knows about the “accidental” shooting but him)

Lady mosquito cried till she slept standing…after a while she woke up…she felt drained and exhausted…she was dying from starvation…she knew she had to have some brain blood…so she blocked her nose and sucked some from a  luscious reddish spot…she became energetic and alive again…she had strength to pull her legs away from the ground…she turned around and headed outside the cavity saying that she has learned the lesson and will never think donkeys are yucky…she promised to never approach a human, humans might as well take a restriction order against her if they wanted…she wouldn’t care less…

She reached out…struggled to fly…but eventually did…she had happy tears of liberty in her eyes…

After she thought she was far enough to be safe…she looked back at the man who traumatized her with his mind…she saw him collapse to the ground…she waited around to see what will happen to him…she heard the man in the white coat saying: “Brain contamination…rare fatal condition…very rare!!”  

In movies, the story always ends.

To say…the truth or the lies

Or to stay silent.

To do…Good or harm

Or tie your hands

Those are the ordinary??

but what if all he could say is scream and all he could do is take revenge by his bare hands…beat…harm…stab…cut into the flesh…kill?!!

That is what people call it: the extreme.

What if that is all he could think of?

That would make him a monster??

What if some people inflict massive harm to many people and they deserve the revenge?? what if they’re evil devils walking on earth??

What if those people he wants to cut through their flesh killed his kids…beat him up…rapped his wife…stole his life and dignity…or did anything that justifies his revenge??

Would that make him any less of a monster??

Well…Don’t we love movies…where justice with no consequences can be applied…and satisfying endings can actually draw an ending to a story.

Problem with real life drama is that, the story never ends!

Impulsive!

I am.

I act…I never freeze…I don’t wait…I engage…I work…

Nothing easily scares me on the spot…I panic later…when I’m done…when I’m alone…when I’m crying.

Or i panic and worry before…while waiting…anticipating…expecting.

I act aggressively when attacked…I act contained and calm in hard times…

I act impulsively…I think and weigh things after i have acted…sometimes I blame myself for being impulsive and sometimes i praise myself for being strong or passionate and quick.

I act…I step up…I do…

But acting is draining…and i need some rest.

I’ve been needing some rest for quiet some time now.

I need a break…and i often think that maybe a break is not a good thing for me…or maybe breaks are not for people like me…and now, as exhausted as i am, i think that i can’t afford a break even if it’s a good thing.

so…impulsive i am…and i can’t change for the time being…I need to stay alert…focused…working on my life…and i need to stay active.

Maybe my renewed energy to act, fight or innovate…is an instinct developed by fear…and faith.

Yes, faith and fear combined.

One can’t exist without the other…I can’t exist without both…

can someone?!!