The Stranger


Dear stranger,

It took me a good while to remember who you actually are. Funny thing is, you claimed that you knew me on a personal level and based on that you came up with a blunt judgement that I am not an optimist and that well too, I suck. That fences us behind two options:-
1) Either I am an ungrateful person who does not remember the people she used to know on a personal level. Which I know very well that I am not. I am a people’s person. And the level of self-actualization that I’m at tells me so. So no, it’s not that.
2) You believe that you knew me, but actually you did not know me at all. Which happens sometimes, you think you’re friends with someone while that someone does not know that you exist in their inner circle of acquaintances to begin with. But it’s okay. It happens. So give me the floor to correct you.

It truly bothers me, how you do not know anything about my life, what I’ve been through, what I’m doing, my take on things and you still made a very insulting personal judgement. It doesn’t bother me that it’s coming from a stranger as much as it bothers me that it’s not true. If I would state one weakness about myself; that would be blind optimism. And it is a weakness because sometimes things just don’t happen no matter how much you hope, work or wait for them to do. I hope, I work and I wait. Some call it faith. Some call it idiocy. By the end of the day, it’s the resultant of being blindly optimistic, of not weighing the possibilities because I block out any thoughts of a negative outcome. Unless you have a different  definition of optimism, I do not know what you build your judgement on.

Second thing- I suck? Really? How long have you known me. I remember we remotely worked under the same roof for a couple of months and that was it. I would like to know what drove you to creating such an assumption that I would truly like to alter or completely remove. You know that famous quote that says that unless you’ve been in someone shoes, don’t judge them. Google it.

Well, now coming to the nice parts which I genuinely thank you for:-
1) You said that I am horrifically talented and that I have inspired you in many ways. Wow, I am humbled. Really. Thank you so much for the nice words. This means a lot to me. I like feedback that comes from people I do not know the most, because usually it is sincere.
2) You said that you respect me on a writers’ scale. Thank you for choosing the correct word to define me- a writer! See it’s that simple, since this is ALL that you conclude from my blog. I am a writer. This is how far you know me. And this is how far I’ll let you define me.

Funny thing is, when I remembered you, I remembered you well. Unlike you, given I haven’t seen you in more than 4 years and you still remember why I suck. That’s a record I would like to end.
And for your information, being dramatic and optimistic can go perfectly well together.

Have a very good day, dear stranger!




We don’t walk out.

We stick through.

We listen. And we pay attention.

We investigate and go over probabilities. We create hypotheses.

We hope we find out.

We fight for results and stay up late for test scans.

And when all the facts are on the table, we seek solutions. We don’t leave the table without solutions.

We try. And we fail. Only to try again.

That’s how we diagnose, treat and seal a wound. Any wound.



Because it’s times like these; the painful hours, where my chest can no longer contain the heartache that I crumble.

It’s times like these that I feel utterly helpless.

And the world is a sad place.

How humans function is beyond complexity.

It’s times like these that I believe -not know, not wish, and not hope- but believe, that tomorrow will be a better day.

It’s times like these that I need to grow outside myself and lend a hand to the loved ones out there.

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The Fix


Of course you’re gonna get your heart broken. And it isn’t just gonna happen once, but a lot. That’s just part of growing up, and it makes you stronger. Then you can handle it better the next time. You may not get through it yourself, but your friends will help you through it. And you’ll be a stronger person because of it. Then, one day, someone will come along, and it’ll all pay off, and no one will ever break your heart again.

The Muse


You are my funny secret.

If only people knew what I find inspiration in, what’s my true muse, if my secret is out, everyone will suddenly realize how simple the world is.

Through your changing colours, depth of shades and the shadows that change in size; your capacity did only grow to embrace me more. With the million small ideas running in my head and the enormous dreams that can’t find a big enough outlet, you’ve stayed the one and only inspiration– the reason I hang on to writing. Maybe not the reason I write, but you are the reason all of this started when I was 5. The reason I still hold a pen and let the ink paint down gardens of thoughts and compose written melodies. 

At a point in my life, you were nothing. Just another figure that shares the land I walk on. You were nothing and that gave you the possibility of becoming something. It’s not really what you are that makes people overlook you, it’s what they think you’re not. But you’re beautiful. So beautiful. You’re the one thing I won’t let anyone distort or ruin for me.

For me, you’re a connection to a past that I never lived, a love that I never met and stories I’ve never heard.  Every time I look at you I remember the man who loved me infinitely and never got the chance to watch me grow. You don’t know how precious you are.

But perhaps, what keeps you precious, what keeps you inspiring and what makes me keep you as a secret muse is that if I tell what you are, you’ll lose that shine. I am the only one who gets you.

I hear you.

You make up for all the Friday mornings I missed out on.

You are a thousand tales I wish I’ve heard.

You are the warmth I only get by looking at.

You’re what people stopped noticing.

You’re what I hold so dear to my heart.

You were never mine, but you’re of me. You are for me.

Of me. For  me. You shall remain my funny secret. My.



A part of me wants to know the truth. The naked absolute one.

Another part will fail to believe it no matter how hard it slaps me on the face daily.

I go to bed at night in hopes of a morning where we will rise again.

Good night Cairo!