The Depressed Rebellion!


YOU ARE STRONG. Snap out of it. Shower and Pray. Go Out and Dance.

And I SCREAM .. NOOO I am not strong. E N O U G H.

Do not deprive me of my birth given right to feel what I want to to and say what I need to say and be the hell whatever and whoever I chose to be even if it means I am a weak broken depressed 38years old Egyptian Moslem lonely single woman with no interest in life as she knows it.

If being strong will grant me all this load and bare me such life then I QUIT!

It is quite paradoxical being a ‘woman’. At first they don’t want you. Then they use you well. They build businesses around you and make sure you never have the muscles to pull off your own. They twist and turn to get you to buy infamously expensive things you don’t need and make sure you remain worker double as much to barely make as much as they do, so you end up digging a guy to pay on your behalf. It scares them that you want nothing, ask for no help, hardly impressed, self sufficient and pay for your own luxuries. You twist and you are non-twistable! 

They keep you at home to bare children or blame you for not being able to have any. You are the seed of all the sins of humanity as we know it embodies in boobs and bottoms that are never big or tight enough for their taste and certainly forever brainless. You are fertile, sexy, young, old, cougar, PMSing, PPDing, menopausing, demanding, barren, dramatic, sensitive, independent, stubborn, wild, tough, soft, fake, virgin, slut, mother, divorced, fat, thin, airhead, geek, crazy,… OR STRONG!! So for God sake just save us the efforts and be STRONG; so we can lay it and name it all on you without having to even blink a thought. They yearn, therefore, may be as a woman I one day feel ‘accomplished’ and we are spared! 

ACCOMPLISHED??! ME??!!! WOMAN??!!! The source of all? The reason of reason? The womb? The heart? The GIVER! I need to work harder to prove competent of a MAN?! A man I give birth to? A man I feed in my embracing womb? A man I comfort and feed? A man I nurture and put before me? A man I support and hold in my mind and heart? A man I teach him about manhood? 

Dear Man, Tempting… 🙂 but no thank you. I don’t want it this life nor the strength that come with it. I have had my share and paid my dues. And I start begging GOD to pretty please let it END HERE and NOW.

I do not have the strength, the sense, the vision, the breath, the eyes, the heart or the mind for this. This illusion of a life. Torn between people who shall forget about me as soon as someone else fulfils my duties towards them. This Cold War zone I locked myself in trying to rise as a strong woman who is able to deliver with nobodies help. Because I lost count of how many times I was let down. 

I live the days supporting myself and others until none of this is my reality. Until these days come to an end. The days where making fun of others if entertainment. The days where fighting your brother over a girl is righteous. The days where pressuring others for your enjoyment is success. The days where men kill women and slaughter their offspring. The days where infidelity is bragged about and bare skin is fashionable. The day where you are either loaded with money or know someone who is. The days where your worth is evaluated by worthless measurers. The days where you are as good as your ass kissing. The days where things and people are only getting worse as they look better!! The days that consume me and do not define me. The days that are empty of empathy, love, trust, care or intuition. The days I long for a helping hand or backing voice. A warm wordless safe embrace.A flow of compassionate energy. A place where you will not be mocked for your hypersensitivity and acts of kindness. A place where there is room to breaths. A place where you hustle and don’t aimlessly run. A place danger is known and peace is an option. A place on earth were humanity is still possible. 
I am DEPRESSED AND SUICIDAL because I have achieved my dreams and come to the peak of my life to learn that with all it good sides and rewards it is not really for me. A life others pictured, spoke of and nested. A vision I obviously borrowed from pieces traded to me by family, friends and film makers; who think I should not learn to picture for myself as I see fit. I am after all a ‘girl’ ‘woman’ … unfit to fit or acknowledge what is fit. Dragged in this never-ending loop of theory and proof… I grow less and less interested in what those pictures and visions have to offer. This unfit so called ‘life’. 

Share on

Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
Scroll to Top