Henlo

I love Arabic and I have for so long. It's a large part of me. Can be very mystical at times. However, Ive shunned it away for a long time. Except for the broken decapitated limps of the sentences I use in general engagements with others I feel afraid of it. Embarrassment from self manifestation through.
I. Young, raw and weakened. I fear it. Words cannot simply explain all bursts I have. But then it was never bad nor corrupt neither was I. Call it maturity? But really it's escapism.

I want to be an artifact.

I am not back for I have never left in the first place.
I am here like I've always been and would be.

I write here for myself not for others.
I want to write for people.

What ever you perceived to be excellent is mediocre at best. Criticism is easy. It's rather fun to dabble in provoking our sense of superiority and self perception through undermining others and things. Being supposedly deep is not the problem. But the provoked mediocrity which intermingle with your insides is. Your concious mind is toying with itself. Everything is a process of learning. But then self proclaimed modesty is same as not being modest at all. As long as there are words spoken unmuted the same way your actions are. You are nothing but a fugitive seeking validation from one's self thus transcending it on to others. We all care it's just a matter of degrees. The degree in which we let things get through.