A Love Story

Posted on March 25, 2013 by Nader Elkhuzundar

Our love story started over twenty-five years ago. She is why I am who I am today. The reasons and the motives. Beautiful from the outside yet strong and persistent from the inside. She’s the most important woman in my life.

She is selfless with her love, unconditionally caring and tending to my every need and want. Whether it be a growling stomach or sleepless nights buried in books she was always there to make everything better. She is my backbone, the foundation to my everything. A timeless relationship that could never be erased. A relationship even Romeo and Juliet would be jealous of.

She was my first kiss, my first breath of fresh air, my first hug. The first woman to wipe my tears and tell me that everything is going to be alright. She embodies the memories I will always cherish. The only good memories about home. She taught me how to be a man, how to think out and how to react to things. She is why I’m alive, why I keep on living.

This woman is my mother.

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Mama, I miss you.

Posted on March 10, 2013 by Nader Elkhuzundar

Tears running down the fair-skinned cheek, sparkling as they slowly flow to the chin. As pure as a child’s heart yet scorching hot like lava on both sides of the face. The first drop scorches the most, but as it rolls down it draws the path for the rest to follow easily, to roll smoothly afterwards.
The grass is always greener on the other side.

We have always hated where we are and what we do. We have always hated many things. Life, death, love, work, food, the weather, or someone. Especially our parents and siblings. We have always fought and argued on the little things, because we’re bored. In spite of all what has been happening to us in the past 65 years, we have lived through it. We have survived.

We, all, have hated our parents the most when they said no when we desperately needed the yes, thinking that this three-letter word will bring happiness and satisfaction upon us, but I guess not.

We all have reached this level, at some point. A level at which we can’t tolerate anything anymore and wanting nothing but to go away and throw everything behind and start a new life.
Here’s to a new beginning.

And then we move. We tailor the life that fits us just perfectly, or so we believe. Then time passes and we start hating everyone and everything again, but one thing remains. Good times we had with people we love. Moments we will always cherish and remember. And this is the case of everyone and everywhere.
Nothing is warmer and safer than my mom’s arms.

I’m not sure what would my answer be when I’m asked about what do I miss about home the most but every time I think about it, the same voice that rang in my ears for 25 years, that bright smile, that lovely laughter, and that beautiful face all strike me at once. My heart aches a little bit and I feel a little burn.
I love you, mama.

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Undisclosed Desire

Posted on March 8, 2013 by Nader Elkhuzundar

Lost between what’s wrong and what’s right, or rather, between what should and shouldn’t be wandering, unwilling to find a middle ground of my own, unhappy with what I have, dissatisfied.

A weird mixture of everything that’s wrong in the shape of a man that follows me wherever I go. Tracking me down, hunting the mere thoughts of happiness that are shyly approaching for a purpose, fighting to reach one goal, making me happy.

I don’t know where will I end up with this, neither do I know what to do. While ignoring is  sinking in uncertainty, willingly following the guide is as uncertain.

Beautiful colours and scents of coffee, smiley faces, and eyes full of hope. White like snow yet as black as coffee. Loud music, so empty, so wordless, pushing my thoughts towards the unknown hiding underneath a layer of undisclosed desire. The lust for the unknown.

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The Emptiness Inside

Posted on February 15, 2013 by Nader Elkhuzundar

The emptiness I feel inside. The pain I’ve been through. The tears I have cried for over 25 years are nothing when compared to what is inside. Sadness refuses to leave me alone. The continuous back-lashing, the irresistible seduction of fear, sorrow, and loneliness. Stuck between pain and pleasure not knowing where do I stand.

I look deep down inside and I see ashes and thin pillars of smoke. An empty void that goes beyond my will digging deep down reaching the no end. I look around me and all I can see is what seems to be human beings. No faces, no voices, and no emotions. I don’t know what should I say or how to react.

Disrespect and dishonesty have reached beyond the sun, so enjoyable, so addictive. Then comes failure, or rather fear of failure. There is always a reason for every thing because everything happens for a reason, except for this. I write to fill the emptiness inside, because I do nothing better than this. Because it is all I have got and is usually where I want to be.

Soulless bodies walk around with bent backs and pale faces, swollen eyes and messy hair, let alone the unlatching colours of fabrics covering the emptiness in a shape of what seems to be bodies.

Fighting for someone’s cause because you’re privileged, or maybe because you speak better English. Claiming to be the best at what you do while realizing that you can’t do it because you lack the skills along with whatever is on the list.

The fear of going back to the starting point.  Of looking them in the eye and feel all this pettiness they carry within. Talking about you behind your back, calling you names, besides your new name, Failure.

Is it too late to go back? Is going back even considered an option anymore? It is not the time to regret because regretting things won’t resurrect the dead.

I am dead.

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Message From the Tube 1

Posted on February 12, 2013 by Nader Elkhuzundar

Here I am sitting in the tube, in a carriage on my own, full of strangers. Just like we were born, alone, we die alone. Or should I say: we come to this world alone and we leave it alone, and when we leave, we leave everything behind.

Striving to be the best, or a better person to say the least. Back-lashing oneself won’t help the case at all and usually leads one to depression from a side and angry at themselves from another side because they couldn’t do or should’ve done better.

This is my first time to write in the tube, or rather, in a moving place, full of noises and uncontrollable everything. I’m also writing with pen and paper, which I haven’t done in such a long time, even before I even started publishing my writings online. I look at my ugly hand writing thinking of what could’ve gone wrong and why am I doing this? Why am I writing?a

Have you ever questioned everything around you? Even your existence? The world might seem better somewhere else, but it’s not.

“This is a Victoria Line train to Seven Sisters.”

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Clueless Beginning, Undecided End

Posted on December 7, 2012 by Nader Elkhuzundar

Torn between studying and learning alone in this cloud city, this is how I have been ever since I moved to London, the crossroads city that has a taste of every place in the world.

Upon arrival, or even before that. Probably in the stage of thinking of leaving home. Moving out to a different world where they’ll be looked at and treated as aliens wondering who is exactly the alien in a city established on the bodies of the indigenous ever since the white man arrived here thinking of expanding his settlement elsewhere on earth.

Grass is always greener on the other side of the road. We all, at one time, thought that leaving home and wandering the world looking for who we are and what can we do best, looking for a place where we would fit probably neglecting or blind folding the bitter truth: ain’t nothing like home.

This is me in London, experiencing life in this cold, dark city. Going through thick and thicker ever since my arrival struggling to make a place for myself in a society of strangers hoping to fit somewhere here or there somehow.

I don’t know where should I begin from, or where to end narrating this story, my story, or a man who loved his home too much to the point he couldn’t see a dim light of hope of prospering, who got fed up with all his surroundings, good or bad, craving for a change dying to kill the routine he has been living for longer than he could remember.

Should I begin from the day I was named a top class student graduating with distinction, cheered and applauded for by thousands of attendees, friends and family included? Or from how I lost my job a few days after that because my employer realized that I am of no use since I graduated hoping for salary raise but instead getting laid off?

Maybe I should begin from when I decided to leave home because life has become too unbearable for me to live this way thinking I wasn’t made for it, tagging myself as an alien just like the rest of the people here, and everywhere else that’s not home.

The beginning of my story is just like the end. Unknown, undecided, colorless just like so many things around me, you and everyone else.  The context, lying between what would seem to be a thick beginning and a thick tragic end.

One, at home, would think life abroad is much better. Sorry to burst your bubble but it’s not!

I miss home. I miss everything about it. Even the bad things.

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