my favorite tailor

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It always impresses me how Picasso’s “La guernica” portraits me, and almost all of my close friends who have been through the same path more or less, except we look normal from the outside, the mess is only from the inside. I recognise how fragile my balance is when I can not engage in a conversation about how difficult it is to have your mother visit you over Easter while you have too much to study… my mom can’t visit me, that nice old lady will not see the beautiful red London buses or the stunning architecture. So yeah, I have more time to study; I will not have to be her tour guide in London, I will not take her to the Thames or London Eye. She will not see my room or the garden where I read my books.

My colleague was complaining how she doesn’t have time for her mom’s visit, while all I said was “Yeah, I know it must be difficult”, I showed a fake smile of sympathy and thought to myself, is it my fault that I don’t sympathise or that I get angry at this type of problems? I know that everyone is fighting their own battle, but why should my battle be this difficult? Why can’t I worry about my food not being organic enough or not having my vacation in the best island in Greece or even spending my birthday alone! These are the kind of problems my colleagues complain about on a daily basis, while I stay silent fearing if I talk about what worries me, I will hurt their feelings or ruin their evening. It worries me not to have a place to go to after I finish my masters because my country is not accommodating and is not a “pleasant” place to live in. It worries me not to ever see my mom again. It worries me that I don’t have a place to call home, the uncertainty, the loneliness, the exile of everything and everyone I love, death worries me… life too does… I wish I can just worry about global warming, then I would go every day to protest in front of Westminster with those nice people, but I am too broken to worry about the Earth. I wish I am that sane and sweet, but I am neither. If I am given the choice, I would probably choose to complain about the amount of field work I have to do, that I have to travel 70% of my time despite being paid three times more like that guy I met today, but I know I would be grateful to get a job unlike these people who would seize every opportunity to complain. I am not like them, I am broken. I would like to believe that I am unique because I left my pieces behind and tried to stitch myself nicely. I stitch myself on my own, I am not a good tailor, but I do my best. I do my best to be nice, to sympathise, to understand, and appreciate. I am not always a good tailor, but I am my favourite tailor.

I am sure that to other people in my country, I am like my colleagues who complain about spending their birthday alone. I live in London and I share nice photos on Instagram, oh God! We are all broken, but do I want to be fixed?

No, I don’t…

it’s your first last moment … or your last first moment… live it!

This evening I wanted to write

I typed and typed

Nothing sounds as painful as the truth

I delete and delete

My friend who lost a beloved friend of her last week came to visit me today

she told me that the most painful thing in losing someone so close that we don’t usually think of their existence in our life, it’s for granted that it feels so natural and normal so we leave many words unsaid and many feelings unrevealed. And suddenly we find out that we wasted many moments not appreciating the friendship or the love we have, and then every second sounds like a wasted treasure…

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chasing pavements – photo by me

how come we don’t appreciate having a family every second! How come you can let your mom die without letting her know how much you love her.

Why do I have to survive a mortar shell to realize that I love life and I love my family and don’t want to die as I claim when I feel so unhappy!

How come we can wait until it’s too late to tell that close friend that we love them!

How can we feel angry because that old uncle came to visit in the “wrong time”! when all he wanted was to give and receive some love!

How can we not feel grateful for that ceiling over our head before it’s too late! Why does it have to become a ruin to know how much it meant to us!

How can we be so busy to notice the beauty around us even in the worst places!

Dear friends; every moment could be our last moment so please… take it from a fool who lived those war times in Syria;

Don’t waste time

Don’t keep the love words unsaid

Appreciate every person you have in your life

Appreciate your healthy organs 🙂 and your unhealthy organs as well

Be grateful for every relationship you have in your life

Every moment with friends , lovers, and family is a treasure, and it might never come back again… be grateful you had it

I can’t concentrate my thoughts or my writings, and what I wrote might sound horrible and detached but I appreciate that my voice is heard, I appreciate I can express and I’m grateful for the lessons I’m having from life so I’m writing them anyway.. maybe later when I’m more focused I can read these pieces back and write them in a better way, or maybe they must stay like this…