One.

A Walk Down Memory Lane..1

Love.

What a strong word that is.

I heard people talking about love. I listened to songs that described love, but I never really understood the meaning.

I’ve seen the tears of the broken hearted people but never believed the sincerity in their eyes.

I always thought of love as a place far, far away. I always imagined it being a high place that I had to climb mountains to reach. All I did was throw obstacles that kept me from pursuing the path that lead to love land.  I convinced myself that I was too young for love; therefore, I distanced myself from ever experiencing it.

But now, I love him.

I love him to bits and pieces and it’s killing me. Every time he’s next to me I feel my heartbeats racing and the room closing in. I feel the sweat beads rolling down my forehead and the thumping sound in my head, screaming.

It’s like every time he’s in front of me I turn the other way, when deep down, all I want to do is run into his arms.

The only thing worse is that I don’t know how or why I even love him. We used to be real close when we were young, but the years separated us. He went to the States to continue his studies and I stayed in Kuwait to continue mine. Now, we both graduated so he’s back to Kuwait.

I always had a feeling we'd end up together. The way he talks to me, the way he laughs at everything I say gave me much needed hope!

Until one day, when everything came crashing down. My hopes and dreams dissolved right in front of my eyes and I stood there with my hands tied, helpless.

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"So tell me more about yourself, Monya," Dr. Manar’s voice brought me back to my glum reality.

Hmm, where do I start? I feel like a big mess.

"I’m confused, I do the right things in the wrong time. I'm drenched in regrets, I can’t seem to forgive myself for things I didn't even do. I want things to get better, really, I just don't know where to start," I spilled my heart out.

I needed someone to talk to. Someone that wont judge, that would partially understand what I went through. I want to tell a stranger how I feel, and I want them to help me. What better stranger to talk to than a therapist?

"Ok, just lay down, and calm yourself. I want you to feel at home," She gestured to the long brown leather couch situated in front of the floor to ceiling window. Her office felt cozy, the dimmed lights and vanilla scented candles made me feel comfortable.

I slowly lay down on the couch and lifted my head up to get a better look at the view. The office overlooks the Kuwait Towers. The ocean sparkled beautifully as the sunrays stroked its waves.

I sighed, "Well, it all started when I heard the horrible news about… Zaid," I looked at Dr. Manar afraid to continue the story. She nodded and jotted down something on her notepad; meanwhile, she motioned for me to continue.

I drowned deep in thought as the memory pierced my brain.

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It was a rainy night and the wind blew furiously making my windows shake. I can almost hear the angry noises it made. Shuddering, I walked to my phone as its ringtone cut through the eerie silence in my room.

"Alooo," my mother shouted into the phone.

"Hala mama," I said.

"Mnu titwaqi3ain kha6aab????" I can almost see her grinning.

"Mnu???" I asked, nonchalantly.

"Zaid wild khalich!!" she shreiked.

"MNUUU???" I asked again with more interest this time.

"Zaaid wild khalich a7mad," she stated.

What? Zaid? My love?

But why?

"M-mnu kha6ab?" I honestly didn’t want to know the answer.

"Rawan bint 3amitich," she said.

Ok, I can feel the heart attack coming. I mumbled something into the phone before I dropped it to the ground. I kept staring into space not looking at anything in particular. All I can see are images of Zaid and then images of Rawan, and then imagining them together. At this point, my legs gave up on me and sent me falling to the ground.

How could she do this to me? My cousin, my BEST friend. She knows all my secrets, everything. Its like we were one soul in two different bodies. Now, she took my half of the soul and crushed it into a million tiny pieces.

How could she?

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"Kanat tadry ennich et7iben Zaid?" Dr Manar asked as she jotted something on her notepad.

"Eee tadry tadryy!!" I said.

"O Zaid kan e7ibich? Ya3ny galich hal kilma eb 9ara7a?" she asked again.

"La magalha, bs kan ebayin min 7arakata!" I said.

As soon as I said this sentence I realized how stupid I was. He never said those three words, and I never really gave it much thought. He was really kind to me, flooding me with gifts on my birthdays, buying me chocolate at 1 am just because I was craving it, and constantly reminding me that I am beautiful. The way he acted towards me made me feel like I was loved, like I meant more to him than what he meant to me.

I promised myself I wont cry on my first day with the therapist, yet those big fat tears came crawling down anyway.

If only I knew then what I know today, I would have changed so many decisions. I would have listened to my loved ones’ advise instead of letting it out the other ear. I drowned myself in sadness, I swam deep in sorrow but I'm not going to be miserable forever. I painfully realized that I need help, and help is what I'm aiming to receive.

I finally have the guts to tell my story to the world; I just hope you’ll learn from my mistakes without going through the heart-crushing pain.