Dear Bowie,

It’s okay if you can’t write more, it’s okay to have writer’s block. Don’t push yourself knowing there’s no use.

Why don’t you go read your favourite book again? or watch your favourite movie? That’s okay too!

You don’t have to write better than anybody else, you love your letters and aimless writings and that should be enough.

It’s okay if you read someone’s post and felt sad, it’s okay, you’ll try again tomorrow.

You’ll get through it, then you’ll get over it.

You don’t have to write day and night like you’re running out of time.

you’re not.

All my love,



The year of minimum regrets.

Dear 2017,

I was sitting with a couple of friends and we were talking about you. Some felt happy with you, some seemed angry and others were quite meh.

Unlike any of them, I didn’t feel any of those emotions. Frankly, I was a bit confused because

1. I have so many reasons to hate you.

2. I have so many reasons to love you.

3. Well, meh.

So let’s start with number one, shall we?

I hate you because I never got around to losing those extra pounds, that practically haunt me whenever I squeeze into my favourite jeans, instead I’ve gained a few more. (p.s. I call myself fat, you don’t. Period.)

I hate you because I was so heartbroken when I got rejected from two places I really wanted to get into.

I hate you ‘cause I’ve lost respect for so many I once called friends and ended up a bunch of fakes , and I hate you for making me see the truth.

I hate you because I’ve spent most of your days sleep deprived, and stuck in a classroom listening to KR basically abuse us. (kidding, the guy’s “Walter White/Heisenberg” cool)I am danger

I hate you ‘cause I’ve spent my 3 months of summer stuck at school, forcing me to deal with the heat and Microsoft Access at 9 am.

I hate you ‘cause I never have the time to read anymore. (fan-fiction does not count, no matter how much you read, people)

As for number two, well….

I love you for finally letting me accept myself, with all my flaws and insecurities, and for letting me love myself, even if it’s just for a few days (compared to the self hate ones).img_4838

I love you for letting me be okay with facing the unknown, and venturing outside my bubble even for a tiny bit. Thanks for finally showing me how to cope, how to cope with mood swings and inexplicable sadness.

I love you because I got accepted as the youngest member of a magazine staff. I love you because my article got published on Egypt’s Today website, which is one of our oldest and most prestigious magazines. Also, I get paid every month to do a job I love, and for a woman I absolutely adore.

I love you ‘cause throughout these 12 months, I’ve created a bond with a wannabe Tony Stark wife, a bond that I hope will last way after our lazy butts stop sleeping/procrastinating. 

Not to forget all the new friends I’ve made, starting from my sarcasm twitter queen and my actual drama queen, to the girls I’ve come to love through Hamilton. However, I’m absolutely nothing without the one who’s endured my (fabulous) love of David Bowie, Led Zeppelin and Oasis, or the curly haired girl obsessed with Mo Salah and….teddy bears? (she’s 16 istg)

Contrary to mum’s belief, you can make friends through the internet. I made 3 twitter mutuals, who turned out to be god’s gift wallah. Shoutout to farah, who even goes to the same club and is movie/musicals obsessed comme moi! (I would’ve added her @ but she changes it all the time (lo-ki judging you farah))

I love you ‘cause I attended my first concert with my twitter mutuals, a Beatles tribute concert, I seriously had so much fun that day you can’t even begin to imagine. It’s officially my favourite night of the summer. 

I love you ‘cause I attended a play by the actor I love the most, as well as a stage adaptation of Charlie and the chocolate factory. I love you ‘cause I attended two open mic events and actually spoke in one. (It was terrible since I was sick but IT COUNTS PEOPLE)

I love you ‘cause summer wasn’t boring for the first time, instead it was filled with street walking, solving on laptops, loads of pizza, cinemas and cafè gossip. It was filled with love towards the coolest teacher I’ve ever come across, and love for an unexpected friend I’ve made.

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I also managed to see 27 new film releases in theaters (still counting tho), and I wanna say about 64 at home. OH, AND I CAME ACROSS MY NEW FAVOURITE MOVIE: It’s a Wonderful Life (1946). (’tis a classic and y’all should watch it)

I love you ‘cause I binge- watched House M.D for the second time, and Breaking Bad(which was way overdue), Stranger Things, Shadow Hunters, Shamless UK, Grace&Frankie, Degrassi, Rick&Morty, The people VS O.J Simpson and That 70s show for the first time.

As for the reading bit, I guess one can’t have everything. (well, if you’re the queen of England, pretty sure you can.)

As for the meh part, well, you had a bunch of “life is meaningless” meh days that I very much don’t remember. so,

Yeah 2017, I was a bit confused at first as to what emotion I should feel towards you.

After I weighed it out, I guess I’m not angry or happy. It’s something in between, something that weirdly feels like gratitude and satisfaction.

2017, I’m grateful for all the opportunities you’ve given to me and all those you’ve taken away from me. Excluding all the downer and meh days, I’m satisfied with every single day I’ve lived this year.

Although overwhelmed may not be the word for it, I’m so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened this year, everything that shaped last year’s version of me into the latest 1.7 version.

P.S I attended my second Glass Onion concert last week and it was freakin’ magical. It’s officially my favourite night of the year.

P.S.2 I’m still not a millionaire and I’m blaming you for that.

Dear Emma, who’s secretly Charlie.

Dear Emma,

I hear you’re feeling a bit low these days, they say you’re feeling lonely. Don’t worry, I am too.

You mentioned that no one cares about you, Charlie. I was quite upset when I read that, does that mean you don’t see me too?

Why don’t you try loving yourself like everyone says?Apparently it works for some people, so why not you?

I’ve tried it, but it doesn’t seem to work with me, I’m sure it will for you though.

You asked me how I’m doing, well, I’m alright. I couldn’t be better really.

As for the book recommendation, perhaps check out Jennifer Nivan’s All the bright places? It’s quite wonderful. I read it at the height of my book mania, so it’s certified fantastic.

Remember how much I loved reading at that time?

Well, I rarely read anymore. I want to, yet I can’t bring myself to linger more than 20 pages. I already know you’re disappointed, even if you’re not, I am. Disappointed in myself, in the fact that I’m almost 17 yet still terribly lost.

Maybe I had time to try before, I don’t anymore. I don’t have time when everyone around me is finding somebody to love, I don’t have time when the one I want always chooses someone else, I don’t have time when they have everything I ever dreamed of and I have mere dust, a shadow of what I could be and what I really am.

I tired, Charlie, I swear I did.

They’ll never clap for me when there’s always her.

They’ll never see me when they’ve got him.

They’ll never love me if I can’t even like myself.

So yeah, I’ll make it work for me, even if I know I’ll be back to the same old start point.

You understand me, don’t you?

You always do, Charlie.

forever yours,


A letter to my dad.

Hey Dad!

It’s always harder to breathe at night, when all I could think of is you. I know this sounds sappy and cliché yet it’s all so true. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve missed you these last few days alone. They were quite shitty days, more so than normal.

Why’d you have to leave? Why’d you have to go and leave me here without you? Why’d it have to be me? Why couldn’t it be her or him? Why couldn’t it be anyone else but me?

It’s not your fault, I know that now and I knew it then. It’s just not fair, never was.

I wonder if people think I’m over your death. I mean, I do look okay, I sound okay and I’m not dead. I guess yeah, maybe they do think I’m alright with it now.

They probably think 2 and half years is enough time to get over someone, and maybe they’re right. It’s probably more than enough, but here I am, still thinking about you nearly every night.

Will I ever understand this? Perhaps I will and perhaps I won’t.

So until then, I’ll keep breathing no matter how hard it is to do so.

I’ll keep breathing,

I’ll keep breathing,

I’ll keep breathing.

yours truly,


Runaway Dreams. 

I read this today, 10/2/2017, at an open mic event. I was sick and it sucked. I’m pretty sure no one even paid attention, but I’ll post it here anyway. I wrote it genuinely, cause I’ve always felt like runnung away. Maybe no one feels that way but me. 

“It’s almost midnight, it’s almost time.I’ve packed my bag for the hundredth time.

I snuck the key from their bedroom stand,

And I stole another glance at my silent soldier.

He’s fast asleep, head’s light with dreamy flights.

I wish I could take him with me, keep him safe from constant cries.

I go back to my room, heart heavy with farewell and lost goodbyes.

“I can’t stay like every time. I swear it’s the last time”

I check the clock again, It’s 5 past 12.

I guess it’s time for me to go.

I close my lights, my door and my heart.

I’m on the way to somewhere, somewhere I’d never see them again.

I should be happy saying this but as head for the station, all I feel is heavy.

When I finally get there,

I walk around till I find the right platform, platform number 4.

I sit on the bench, tired and alone.

I look around but there’s only me and that weary old man,

who’s found a home in this sunken land.

I think he’s staring at me, and for a moment, I catch his eye.

Almost like mine, it’s filled with seemingly endless pain.

It’s getting close to 1 am, closer to boarding the train.

I smile at the man, who smiles back with his crooked, yellowing teeth.

I look away.

I hold my backpack closely, make sure everything’s still there.

The train’s here, I slide in as the doors open and sit in one of those empty chairs.

There’s only me, a mother and her child.

The girl’s huddled to her mama’s side, she’s whimpering slightly, whispering something unknown to myself.

After a while, the mother looks up.

She nods her head as she notices her new companion.

I guess, maybe like me, the mama’s searching for herself.

I should get some rest, there’s a long day ahead.

By the time I wake up, it’ll be a new dawn.

By the time I wake up, maybe, they’ll notice I’m gone.”

Marvel Emotions.

What really bugs me about Superhero movies is that whatever you see can never be 100% real.  Like never. (unless someone invents a superhero serum or gets exposed to huge amounts of gamma rays and actually survived, or you’re black widow)

I mean, I’m practically the world’s biggest Marvel fan, but I’m not in it for the action or the weird scientific stuff, not even the whole “there’s like 157272 different realms out there”.

I’ve realised I’m only in it for the humanity these “superheroes” radiate. I’m not really interested in how Captain America beats off the bad guy or how Ironman used some sort of metal to practically stay alive.

I’m interested in how Steve Rogers can’t wrap his head around how 60 years have passed and everyone he ever cared for is either dead or dying. I’m interested in how Tony Stark faced Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and suffered anxiety attacks (like normal beings can) after almost dying to protect his world.


I don’t really care about the dynamics of killing off aliens or fighting off mischievous gods.

I do care about the betrayl Loki felt when he discovered his orgins, I care about how he always felt like the lesser one compared to his brother Thor.

I care about the feelings those characters go through. I care about their emotions and how they deal with situations concerning their loved ones, ‘cause for me, that’s making them real and that’s what cinema’s all about.

 It’s not just some CGI and special effects, it’s about making you feel the way the characters do. It’s about somehow merging with them.

That’s why no matter the film, there’s always gunna be some tie between you and the characters.

A prime example of this is marvel’s very own Logan movie, the final movie for the character who started the superhero craze.

You see Logan (aka Wolverine) as a tired and battered washed up hero, taking care of his mentor, who’s practically lost his ability to control his powers.

We get to see the human part of Logan, the dynamics of his feelings as he discovers that, yes, he has a daughter! We experienced his fear and his sadness over her and I understood that. 

I truly love the new direction marvel’s taking, it’s got more drama, more comedy and somehow more realisim.

Personally, I’d take drama and real life emotions over bright lights and fast skills any day.

James Anthony Paul.

The intruding sun rays seemed to blind her sight. As her eye lids awakened and her eyelashes fluttered, She realised it was most probably past noon and she murmured something incomprehensible. Remembering what day it was, the girl wasted no time in getting up and heading to the bathroom, where she remained for about 20 minutes under the shower head. Although she had kept the date on every calendar she owns -Yes, including her “Period” calendar-, it didn’t quite matter; for she had the date carved in her mind, heart and soul. 
She took her time while getting dressed though; she carefully picked out a rather elegant black knee-length dress, very suitable for such occasions. 

She didn’t care much about whatever most women made a scene about, including makeup. Although she loved to try it on from time to time when her friends urged her to, she never had the heart to actually learn some skills. She did, however, know how to grab the eye with just a tint of red lipstick. It was, after all, the most powerful weapon of seduction. 

Her naturally straight hair was already hanging down beautifully behind her back, a simple brush and she was all set. She grabbed her square-shaped purse, which was settled near the nude heels she had picket out of her closet, with one hand and she grabbed the simple bouquet filled with white roses and wormwoods in the other.

The first couple of cabs refused to take her where she needed to go. One suggested she should take the bus to the nearest stop to the place, she took his advice. After he dropped her off, she waited a couple of minutes till the bus arrived and she hopped in. Since her destination was on the outskirts of town, she remained seated all the way through the line. The driver offered her a comforting smile, but all she could sense was his sympathetic eyes following her as the doors closed and the engines flared to life again. 

As soon as she stood in front of the gates, she whispered a couple of words to the wind: “God, I don’t think I can do this again.”. 

She pushed the rusty metal gates open, the sign bearing the name “Wallflower Cemetery”, which was barely readable even from up close, rattled in a cry for help as if it dreamt to escape. 

Step by step, she entered the graveyard where all her loved ones were buried, including him. She slowly approached his gravestone and she kneeled whilst placing the small bouquet. White roses and wormwoods, yes. A weird combination indeed, but one that meant so much to her. 

She kept wondering how come the contrast between the bright flowers and the grey stone was that much beautiful.  

She sat there on her knees, staring at the words written:

” James Anthony Paul

  Born November 2nd 1952

  Died July 26th 2015

“Heaven knows we sure had some fun, boy!””

She laughed, only her mother would put George Michael lyrics on a grave! James did love George Michael though, so she didn’t make a fuss when she first saw it. She actually thought it was kinda sweet of her Mum to actually remember that song, let alone that lyric.

She smiled as she got up, her Mum and Dad were really cheesy and not the bad cliché kind, but the heartwarming one. 

She smiled again. 

“See ya later, Dad!” 

After all, she had a party to attend.