Sunday, August 22, 2010

My Name ــــ Story



You saw me standing alone and asked if you could stay with me for a while. You never were considerate and the word “gentle” was an antonym to your name. It surprised me. We talked like there was never a thing between us and on parting, you didn’t remember my name.  It has been years, many of them and you conquered the rules of time in my mind to be always in the present so no second passes  without you sealing it. But you don’t remember my name. How come when you were the one who taught me how to talk? After years of silence, you granted me the words and I started writing, everything imaginable and maybe unimaginable and like a baby who has just learnt how to speak, your name was in every page, every line, every word, every dot even when it was not present, it was there, your shadow was there and when I had not the least intention to write you, your ghosts haunted my pen.
   You don’t remember my name…but you remember my face. Your eyes devoured it… you stole it and rendered me prisoner to yours. You held a rope at one end, and at the other, you  tied a knot around my finger. And you started walking around me, the way wolves do before attacking their preys, you were too stupid to see I had already surrendered..like a thief who saw no use in running, and gave up because it was easier. I wasn’t the thief..you were. Every time you moved, the rope circled around my hands, my arms, my legs, my body, me , all of me….remember me?
    You once admired a red dress I had. you don’t remember it, do you? I do. Red became my favorite color because of you, and it was your favorite color because it seeped out of the hearts you ruthlessly murdered and did not bother to know a name for.  They were all your victims, we were all your victims.
    Once, I dreamt of you..you were weak, vulnerable; everything you were not in real life and then, you started crying in my arms. I told you this dream and you laughed saying I must be feeling very sorry for you now. I smiled and said I did, but I was lying. I didn’t want to wake up from this dream where you happened to need someone, an imperfection you hated, and I was that someone you needed. I loved the feeling of your head spreading all over my chest and me holding you asking you to cry more, let it all out, but in truth, I feared that when you’d be strong enough, you’d leave.
  I bet my story  is too clichéd for you, you’ve heard it before and became weary of it …your ears created a shield blocking it away from entering your mind and being interpreted as a voice of someone who held a memory in your subconscious….that’s why you can’t remember, because unlike everyone else you knew a name of, you did love me.
    

19 comments:

  1. this is amazing.
    the imagery.
    wonderful.

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  2. Terrific Maha!


    this reminds me of my lost love, but I wonder if I was ever loved, sure they remember my name...

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  3. Romantica. How painful but beautiful at the same time. I can feel the feelings of the girl in the story because at one time I was her.

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  4. 'Red became my favorite color because of you'
    So raw and honest. A nice strong narrative voice.

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  5. incredibly moving, maha!!! just riveting! very beautiful!

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  6. Very nice and sweet and moving :D. I loved it Maha.

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  7. Your prose has a vivid poetry to it, Maha. As I've often said, your empathy and ability to delve into the human mind is wonderful, as well as your profound understanding of love and emotion.

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  8. ..sometimes the people that seem to be very strong are the most vulnerable ones….and they build up walls to prevent being hurt

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  9. one of the beautiful things about loving someone is allowing them to be strong when we are weak and vice versa...it is an opportunity to be real...nice write maha...def emotional...and thanks for the nice somment over at one shot!

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  10. wow... that runs so deep. loved it!

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  11. Wow Maha, this is moving and so real, I can identify with so many of the feelings you express here for at one time I was a girl just like that. xoxo ♡

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  12. the name was painted all over, and yet you don't remember...

    Interesting read.
    A pang of losing someone precious is certainly evident.

    Will definitely read more.

    Cheers
    Blasphemous Aesthete

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  13. We sometimes lose ourselves in others who have no idea we exist.
    What a shame. Beautifully written, Maha.

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  14. I would never be ab le to live with myself if somebody told me what you wrote here, so I really feel shame for whoever it is for. So wow. :)

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  15. I just hope this is fiction because it is excellent fiction as writing and so very good as a study of obsession!

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  16. have no worries, it's pure fiction!

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