Skip to main content

The Week I quitted Twitter for Good

A year later. I miss him so much. All I have are our memories together. Is it odd that one gets to figure an end for their path in their 20s? I get overwhelmed more often in isolation. Used to scrabble those tiny words on the back of my notebooks in class; sneaking, hiding. Why did it happen that when one was younger, one was as brave as the Sun (?) I am now shying away as that big stone in the sky. How mediocre does that read to you? How come I did not mind academia ruining my sense of self all these years? Was that academia or bad parenting? A well-established director tells us the other day about being true to ourselves in every decision we make. Little did he know how that very motto is tiring and weary to live with. My psychological age is practically 79. I realised just today that I have wasted a lot of time in school (s). I realised I let myself be manipulated by bosses, headmasters, charismatic people who happen to be only so from afar: How loathsome it is to live in such a world. Would have been better if it all ended last year. What a perfect finale for my life: A fresh graduate with the highest grades, profound (lousy) journals, wore out soul so much so that she took her life because her favourite person died before she could make it to graduation.  The world itself is the deadline. People change. I miss them What a stupid game; getting nothing done. 

In this phase where I truly believe I am a walking piece of cowardness. What is this mounting up to? What am I becoming? I just feel like leaving everything behind and letting go. My people's thermometer is cracked. I forgot how to write. I am losing the essence of- it is slipping- who I am or what I am aiming at. The year's days are an on-loop cry for help. When your gut feeling tells you your world is out of joint and you undergo another cycle of isolation to deter- to try and deter the remnants of your life. Nothing makes sense anymore. I  thought I know, I guess, I needed to cool down away. . . A constant feeling of what Plath wrote: I felt that if someone looked at me, I'd burst out crying. I miss him so freaking much. Life has become a dreary foreboding place without him. So, what are the questions, really? Why am I wasting so much time seeking purpose when there is none? I would not mind death. Not at all. All I have are memories with him-- those warm moments of feeling at ease.'What a stupid game getting nothing done?'

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Cavafy and Kassaby: Two Poseidonians Remembering Ithakas

Hello, world. My name is Pensée Atef Mohran. I am an English major and this is a final paper I  wrote for the Comparative Literature class of Spring 2019 The film is now screening in international festivals, but here is the TRAILER:*That's What Happened- Official Trailer: https://vimeo.com/321357063  till it's available for the public.
2 comments
Read more

What is Done Cannot be Undone: A Draft of Reflections on 4 Visual Arts’ Workshops

  Pensée Atef Mohran July, 2022 Exactly two years ago, if I wanted to output my insights on a piece of reading I was assigned to critique as an English major, I would, as a force of habit, opt for responding in writing an MLA research paper; conceptual, reflective, and informative. One step further would be an in-class presentation; dull, strictly-graded, and academia-bound.One year later I would experiment with audio-video documentation advancements when I join the Jesuits Film School Program in Alexandria, and graduate with my first short documentary. But, I would still have this urging question regarding the intricate relationship between text and image–Is there more to it than fiction and documentary films? An interdisciplinary point of intersection between art and academia, perhaps? In this paper I attempt to share my reflections on the 4 main workshops of the Visual Arts Program at Behna Al Wakalah and the possibilities they left me with. As for Magic of Text as Space worksho...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Ghost Story (2017): A Tale about Letting Go

      Written and directed by David Lowery, A Ghost Story came out in 2017 starring Academy Award-Winning actor, Casey Affleck, and Rooney Mara. This film was a step away from the traditional moving-picture horror films the audience would expect from the title. Because usually, a ghost tale implies that one is before something gothic and horrifying; a love story, maybe, in the same sense that David Foster Wallace meant when he said that every love story is, in essence, a ghost story. But the director here puts it in more simplistic terms of vision. After all, his main character is a ghost in a Halloween-costume bed-sheet. By that he aims at clarifying that the idea of haunted places, the passage of time, and this very personal, specific image of a ghost made-at-home carry homage to the 7-year-old Lowery whose first film ever was a home-made movie starring his brother as the ghost in a bed-sheet haunting their house. So, in a sense, this film is immens...
Post a Comment
Read more