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I've been doing some brainstorming a lot lately, to the point that it's always thunder and lightning in my head. Electricity is in the air, and I hope love will replace it.
Sometimes I wonder if it's not my young years in Paris and its curious climate that made me who I am forever. According to Freud, if you had a big impression of a stage of your life, your life might reflect that stage forever. And we know Freud thought fixations are bad.
Obsessions are nasty, but the universe falls in love with stubborn beings.
I was born in Lebanon in 1980 and emigrated to France in 1983. I'm 40 years old, and I feel love like a 14-year old teenager today. I'm riding broomsticks at the moment and wonder what kind of witchcraft made me who I am.
I'm having troubles with my intimate life, and that's why I'm over-analyzing. I know if love comes to town, I should catch that train.
When Will I Be Free From The Spell?
Someone put a spell on me because they wanted to make her yours. Who needs actions when you got words? I watched an interview of someone two days ago, mentioning you use the word spelling.
Thunder only happens when it's raining. We all know the song. But what they didn't tell you is that hurricanes happen when low pressure meets high pressure.
At the moment, if you give me a ride, something will die inside of you. I don't know what's wrong, but I have no energy. The situation in Lebanon is disastrous, and the corona crisis has left its mark on my heart.
One day I'll fly away like so many Lebanese who want to escape a country with exceptional nature but a country that still has a hard time moving on of 15 years of civil war.
I found a deadline for my heartache: November 22.
Who's On The Road, And What Will That Person Do?
When your brain contains so much electricity, you'd better grab an umbrella and head for your favorite pub, bar, or coffee shop. You might need that human touch.
I'm on the road again, and I got nobody to call my special friend. It wasn't always that way. See, the goal of existence is to find coherence. When you're ill, try to wonder if everything is limpid in your life.
Anyway, someone's on the road, and I think it's a killer. I'll never forget the aimless years in Paris. Cold heartbreakers fit to burn everywhere. If you're not lying on the bed right now, staring at the ceiling, then congratulations: you're above average.
I got sick and tired of state terrorism. When security forces abuse their power, you know civilization is on the decline.
What If It Only Was An Adaptation Problem?
Yes, now you know what my heartache is: state terrorism and jumping jack flash. I've got PTSD and flashbacks of killers on the road because they never had a heart of their own. I know the president of France wanted his secret service to be without pity.
Recently I learned that the universe is cruel with fraud. I also learned that weak people are brutal. If only fools are kind, then it might be wise to be inhuman. I don't share that opinion.
Good things come to those who wait. The turn of a friendly card: that's all we ask in Lebanon. And let's not forget we're part of something bigger called Earth. Are we all children of the sun (even in Paris bathed by an oceanic degraded climate)?
Are There Things You Can Forgo?
All in all, I think there's one thing important down here for us humans: solidarity. Life is an extreme experience, and without solidarity, we won't go very far. And that may be why my mind is electric at the moment.
I got no help whatsoever from my former friends.
So I decided to be a friend to someone and find a job. After all, I know how to make stunning websites, and my passion for music is still intact. I'm writing this post listening to a playlist I called "Thunder." If you want to listen to it, message me.
I will heal at the latest on November 22. I have no choice. Otherwise, I will start to fade away. I'm lonely, and I can't think at all. I've got to live my life, as bleak as it might look.
My heart will be pure again when the tears wash my eyes.
[Verse 1]
"There must be some way out of here"
Said the joker to the thief
"There's too much confusion
I can't get no relief
Businessmen, they drink my wine
Plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line
Know what any of it is worth"
[Verse 2]
"No reason to get excited"
The thief, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour is getting late"
[Verse 3]
All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too
Outside, in the distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
The wind began to howl
