Monthly Archives: January 2012

Who says roller coasters are fun?


I don’t know why it seems that whenever I travel to Sydney, I always come back to Cairo broken hearted.

I have started concluding that traveling is my demise.

My friends who keep tab on me through Facebook think that I am happy. That I live well. I guess they are fooled. After all, I will not put pictures of me crying on social networking sites. No, they should think I’m one strong, confident, happy, insert-all-fearless-synonyms-here woman. So upload those pictures of me and my cute cocker spaniel puppy, upload videos of me playing the piano, upload pictures of me and my salad and a good book to read. Fool everyone including myself to thinking I am ok. I figure, I should leave all the drama to writing.

They think traveling back and forth Sydney and Cairo (which is part of my job) is all glamorous and fun, and it can be, except when I come back to Cairo and is given a cold hug of irreverent goodbye.

Most of my long time friends only see me from afar. They only see holiday pictures by the beach and other cool yet pretentious stuff like eating at a great cafe surrounded by new friends. Yes, my life is great, or so they think.

What most people fail to see behind all those smiles, is all the goodbyes and hard work that come with traveling.

I have said a lot of hellos and goodbyes to people that I thought are awesome but will never see again. I met a lot of great people that I would love to see again and again but because I travel back and forth, it is hard to stay in touch, or sometimes, I go back to the city where I met them only to find out they already left or moved to another country.

It’s a social roller coaster ride out there.

Before I left for my second trip to Sydney in July 2011, I was seeing this guy. I came back after two months and found him gone. Not gone-gone, it was more like “I met this girl and I want to see where it will go” kind of gone.

That was heartbreaking. I thought things have ended in my life, I felt miserable until November.

Yes, sweet November.

I started seeing a new guy and everything was just fantastic. (By the way, I decided to start this blog thanks to him. Probably 80% of the things I will write here for the next three months will be about him so bear with me.)

It was a new relationship and I was excited all over again, feeling jumpy and giddy inside and want to do cartwheels on the outside because my heart is too small to contain such a big feeling of being in love. Being in love? I recognized that feeling, I know it very well and have felt it before but it was as though I was meeting love for the first time. It was as though everything was new again. But then I had to go back to Sydney in December and that’s when things started feeling old.

We said we will celebrate Christmas and New Years, and our second month together when I get back to Cairo and we did. It was a beautiful night filled with laughter and passion and gifts and Iloveyous and Imissyous. Sounds like a happy couple? Well, yes, except for the part where he broke up with me three days later.

No reasons, no explanations, no nothing. So, now, I am left to endure what any broken hearted person has to go through–another hard and painful goodbye, tubs of salty tears, tubs of ice cream, sleepless and chilly nights, loveless mornings, whathaveyous. It’s like saying “hello, broken heart, we meet again.” And that was the last thing I need.

It is an emotional roller coaster ride, but luckily, my girlfriends are on an all out support as I go through all the loop the loops.

I am reminded that even as I say goodbye, my girls are always there for a hot cup of chocolate and more “he’s a loser” make-me-feel-good chitchats which is more than enough to keep me going through this heartbreak whether I’m in Cairo or traveling somewhere in Oz.


I want to know, and yet I don’t want to know


January 21, 2012

Dearest Ali,

I’ve been thinking whether or not to call you baby. And I think calling you baby will be very assumputous of me. After all, how can I call you baby when you walked away from me?

It’s been exactly nine days now since you told me to stop calling you because you won’t answer anymore. It’s been exactly nine days now since you told me that you fell out of love.

It’s been nine days, a long, tough, excruciating nine days, and I am still trying to find answers as to how we fell apart.

I don’t want to blame myself anymore, neither do I want to blame you.

For someone who told me that he loves me, and who promised to always love me and never let me go, I find it hard to understand, nor believe that you can walk away from me just like that.

At night, when it’s cold, I still wonder if you miss holding my hand. You used to say that I always keep you warm, that even when we are apart, just hearing my voice is enough to give you a good night sleep embraced in warmth under your sheets.

I love you in November, even though we were always arguing. I love you in December even when I was in Sydney and you stayed in Cairo, and I love you now, even when I’m not seeing you, even when you left me out in the cold and in the middle of confusion and heartache.

This is what I don’t understand. I love you yesterday, today, and I know that I will love you tomorrow, so how is it possible that you stopped loving me just like that?

I’m sorry, I just said I won’t blame you anymore, and yet here I am, trying to accuse you of not loving me enough.

It’s crazy, I know, especially when I say that I love you for everything that you are and yet I hate you for everything that you do.

At night, I wonder what you are doing. Are you keeping yourself warm? The winter in Cairo is just unbearable, especially now that you are gone. Are you well? Are you happy? Have you found someone else who is keeping you warm?

I want to know the answer, and yet I don’t want to know.

Every morning, I still look at all our pictures, of you and me looking so happy and in love. We were happy before, we were in love before, it was real and true, so how is it possible that it is no longer the same?

I miss you so much, the warmth of your fingers intertwined with mine, your kisses that send shivers down my spine, your deep brown eyes that tell a lot even when we are both silent, your smell, even when you had a long, tough day at work.

I miss it all, I miss everything, I miss you, I miss us.

Tonight, I know I will be thinking the same thing, do you still miss us? Do you still think about us the way I do?

Sometimes I like to trick myself into thinking that you still feel the same, but you are just not telling me.

Sometimes, I like to think that you are just waiting for February 5, when it’s supposed to be our third month together and you will just magically show up at my doorstep, professing that you have always loved me.

And that is why I am still writing you this letter, because I still like to believe that one day, it will happen. You and me.

Letting you go would mean that I have accepted that you will no longer be a part of me, and I am not ready for that. So I am holding on, no matter how much it hurts, because this is the only way I know I’ll get on with my everyday.

So, how are you doing? How have you been? Do you still think about me? Do you still love me?

I want to know, and at the same time, I don’t want to know.