My head is full of clatter and my heart is pulled by something I can’t identify.
What is it heart? What is it mind?
I tried to do the things I love, I enjoy, but in vain. What is it self? Why am I so blurred and foggy today? What is it entity? Is someone or something calling me? Did I smell a breeze that carried the memory of another time and place? My blood is agitating and my breath is hot. My eyes can’t identity their aim, and my focus insist to wander as it pleases. It might be the talk I had today with a friend about the past. Although I have an incredible ability to remember, which is the amazing and most painful feature about the mechanism of my brain, but I wasn’t always able to recall what I want, it is my memory that chooses what to recall; maybe because my past wasn’t that joyful. But my friend reminded me of something I did 10 years ago, and I had this undeniable and irresistible desire to dig deep and long. I came back home with one thing on my mind, seeing my past face. So I started searching YouTube for a Syrian comedy series that I was part in as a comparsa. After hours of searching, I found one episode that my face appears in.
Why did I take the trouble to search for hours to see my face instead of looking at my old pictures? Well, I felt nostalgic to that me in that particular time and place, though I don’t like that me. That version of me was unconfident, completely lost and in sorrow. But I am not certain at all if I am nostalgic to that I.
I am nostalgic to the unknown. What is it mind? What is it heart? What is it night? What is it light?