أشلاء

ها هو الصخب والضجيج، ها هي الأشياء لا تكف عن ضوضائها المملة، والبشر هاهم لا يزالون يصنعون ما يصنعون في غفلة عما يدور في رحا الصمت والأنين. لو أنني شاهر سيفا في وجه من يرمونني بتلك النظرات في لحظات طيشي أو في حالات يأسي لكنت ممن يثأرون لأنفسهم بتلك الطريقة الغريبة الصراحة إلى حد الغموض. ها هم الأن جميعا متربصون، وهئنذا أعزل السيف واللسان. ما أسوأ الحصار .. أنا وأنت يا نيل محاصرون: كل منا يجري في داخله، كلانا يروح في اتجاه نهايته. نهايتك هي لحظة البداية، نهايتك متجددة. أما أنا فكلما أحسست أنني انتهيت أبعدوا خط النهاية. كأنه درب بغير انتهاء، كأن النهاية فقط هي لحظة الوداع. وكأنني لن أنتهي إلى ما يرمي الطموح أو يصبو الأمل.
قد مررت بهذه الطرقات مرات منتشيا وهائنذا أعاودها يائسا. بعدا لهذه الحياة الغائبة. بعدا لهذه الحياة التي لاتجيء. الصمت أفضل ألف مرة من الكلام. أحيانا تفاجئنا الكلمة بالفرح، وكثيرا ما تدمينا. أكره الضجيج. آه لو خلق الكون في هدوء. حتى البداية الكونية كانت في الأصل انفجارا. حتى أنا في لحظة الميلاد كنت صاخبا مزعجا لا أكف عن الصراخ. لو انني قد جئت في هدوء، لكان الصمت حليفا لائقا بي. لكنني صنعته حليفي رغم عنفي وصخبي. كل الكلمات الزجاجية الشفافة الصغيرة تسقط، تتناثر، تدميني. تتناثر أشلائي حولي. أحاول أن أمسك الجرح لكن جراحا أخرى تنبثق وتندب في جسدي النحيل ولا أردها، ولا ألمها، هي دائما هناك

THAT usually happens..!!

Friendship or brotherhood, I dont know what to call it. But it was either of the two.

One word over the phone yesterday made it like hell.

Seven years is the age of our friendship. I like number seven. It always reminds me of the sadest moments of my life with the only ecxeption of my dearest brother's birthdate. They were like seven centuries and like seven minutes at the same time. They were full of manhood, goodness, frankness and honesty. They were full of sadness, lying, animosity and dishonesty. They are seven years in my lifetime anyway.

Narcotics brought us together and separated us. we came back again. We gave up narcotics and reading brought us instead but it didn't separate us. I love reading thus. Something else broke it down. It is something he knows and of which I know nothing. Criticism brought our friendship into being; criticism of people, of books, of ideas, of music and arts and of nature. We used to criticise everything but never criticized ourselves. One more thing brought us together. It is our unprecedented love of Fayrouz. She was Like a Goddess worshipped in the temple of our friendship.

My family refused him as a friend, and so did my older friends. I refused to judge things according to their appearance. I believed in the hidden goodness behind people's faces. I didnt like his family. There has always been that sense of worry that I felt whenever I met anyone of them; specially his uncle whom I detested the most and whom he loved the best. I only liked his mother. She was such a pure woman. I sometimes thought that she was a complete misfit in this family and that's what made me believe more in him thinking he might be as good as his mother whom he tortured alot.

We were so different that I believed he is the right choice.

We became so similiar that I began to worry about our friendship.

He began to exceed the limits, I tried to stop him decently. He extended I became cruel. He retreated, I assured him it was the right decision.

He changed and became sulky. I hate people when they sulk. they usually sulk to show their sadness but usually they dont show except stupidity and impose on one nothing except irritation.
I mean when people choose to sulk in order to deliver you a certain message. I hate this. Accordingly I began to hate his attitude. I began to criticize him. It's usually a joy to criticize someone in the face whenever one is really able to do so, just as it is a pleasure to be criticized by those who mean nothing to you. I criticized him best. He tried to argue but my words were so true and vivid and harsh that he was silenced after many failing attempts to turn things to the opposite. He became depressed. I tried to make it easy for him. I advised him to be civilized and to accept criticism assuring him that it is one of the very clear defects of our culture. His depression increased. I left him alone.

Few days later he had an accident and his leg was broken. I heard about this next day. I used to visit him every day. I felt very sorry for him. At times he acted in a way that I felt he wanted to blame me for his current situation. I dont know how I felt so.

He began to criticize me in everything, starting from the way I talk, passing by the way I think-of which he knows so little I am sure- and ending by my behaviour. I realized then, more than ever, that he fell inside the trap of being influenced and being psycho. It is usually a problem that brings my friendships to end.

That same day, I left him and went back home, thinking deeply of his new problem that was going to destroy everything. I said to myself "it is time to wait for what he is going to do". I waited for two days and on the third he called me and without saying hi he threw it like this:" Do You believe that You are not a man"- you know what it means when an egyptian says it huh?-
"Hang up please now or I'll do it in ur face" I replied. He didnt. I did. He sent me a message saying:"And not respectable either"...

I haven't answered him back and I don't think I will. I don't regret him. I do regret the moments. I do regret the part of myself that I left with him. I beweep the passions that I have let. I do wonder where should all that time, those passions, gifts, money, love, disobeying my family and friends, my secrets and my stories go?

Where should all these things go? should they go astray? should we plant the flower and the reward be a thorn in one's flesh? This is not fair Life. yes you: I am talking to you life, this is not fair. YOU are not fair.