I was on the way back home again, turned on the radio again. They played James Blunt: “…She was with another man. But I won’t lose no sleep on that, ‘Cause I’ve got a plan.”

And again I felt my heart break. It’s just three sentences and everything goes to waste again. Again and again… I don’t want to tell you that this happens to me. Because it won’t change anything. So I decide to play the strong one. I don’t want to lose you – so I decide to play the happy one – decide to be your friend. And I don’t want you to become sad when my face comes up – so I decide to shut up.
I decide to do everything with you and for you. I tell you that you should care more about yourself. That it will be all good.

I fell in love with you so many times. Everytime I see you, it happens again.
And you are showing me so many times that it could be all good. But it won’t.

“….But it’s time to face the truth, I will never be with you….”
I have no idea how to stand this pain.

You have called her a bitch because she said “Hi!” to me.
No one has ever said “Ich weiß” when I tried to explain a feeling but I couldn’t.
And when you said “Take care!” I fell so much in love.

I will never meet a girl like you again.

You have made me jump high on the streets with your text.
Merci.

I have learned what “Hakuna Matata” means.
Merci.

And what “Dokhtare khoob” means.
Merci.

You have read my blog.
Merci.

You have showed me how to listen to people.
Merci.

I had that wonderful dream.
That I would make you a present. A white piano.
And that you would play.
It would be all good.
Merci.

And another one.
That I would tell you that we should go to California.
It would be all good.
Merci.

And another one.
That we would wake up on a sunday morning, next to each other.
And that beautiful little girl.
I enjoyed watching you with her.
It would be all good.
Merci.

It hurts so much to say Merci.
مرسي

I was on the way back home, driving the car. It was half past seven in the evening, Vienna westside. The sun was going down and they played a Coldplay song on the radio. I could smell the taste of coffee in the air…

I remembered her in that moment and noticed how much I’ve been missing her. About one week ago she sent me a message saying “Oh god, how I’ve been missing you”. Now it’s on my mind… “Oh God, how I’ve been missing her…”.

How much that damn city is missing her, how much Starbucks and Kärtnerstraße are missing her. How much Haus der Musik is missing her, how much Tom is missing her. And how much he wishes that she feels the same way.

Come back, I’m still waiting at the airport…

Egyptians celebrate the beginning of spring with a festival called “Sham Al Neseem” (=”flavour of the breeze”).
I’ve read an article about this festival a few weeks ago. And then I talked about the word “Neseem” with some friends at university.

I’m sitting in my room, a small lamp is on and the window is opened. I can feel a cool breeze and I smell the summer coming. I think of the Persian girl who told me that the Persians also use the word “Neseem” for “breeze”.

Indeed, I enjoy to talk with that oriental girl about “Neseem”. It’s so easy – but it feels so delightful.

It took place in a hotel in the middle of nowhere… Tuesday night. I arrived at nine in the evening and needed to do some preparations for the next day. I went to my room, prepared my stuff and after some time, I turned on the TV and found out that they showed a Queen concert. Those were the days…

I was tranquilly lying on the bed and enjoying the music I had been so fond of, when I was fourteen. No thoughts about pressure, no idea about the next few days. I was alone, but not lonely. And I enjoyed myself.

I sended some text to a girl I’ve been thinking of in that moment. She answered me and so did I …

She was also alone and I think, our both moods were in a good fit. Thus the conversation was quite relaxed and fine. That girl has a fascinating ability to find the right moment for the right words. In that situation she found the right words again.

And she has no idea how I admire her talent for creating perfect situations.

Having written all the stuff about hurting and being hurt, I came to one conclusion.
When you are in a close relationship with someone, it’s unavoidable to hurt each other. When you have a close friend, you let him or her come close. And as he or she is not perfect, there will be a situation from time to time, when you get hurt.

But when we talk about sympathy or friendship or love, you don’t expect that he or she WANTS to hurt you. So it’s all about how both cope with the situation. It could even bring you closer together than ever .

Calm down, settle back and have trust in your relationsship. Then it will be all good.

I feel so strong sometimes and then so vulnerable. So adamant and so much like chicken shit at the same time.
Indeed, it happens from time to time that someone hurts me. And then of course, I don’t feel strong. This feeling is based on the fact that I’ve let it happen to get hurt.

As I don’t want to run into such a situation again and again, I have to protect myself.
But what does protection mean? Should I just go and avoid contact with someone who hurt me? In other words, should I act like a coward and run away?

But not going away may hurt. Because not going away could mean to get hurt again and again.
What I usually do, is to think that it’s no solution to go. In many cases, it would actually be unfair – because the person who hurt(s) you doesn’t even know that. In these cases I usually try to ignore my pain (mostly without success).
It’s a dangerous game, because I ignore my sincere feelings. I shouldn’t do that.
When it comes to that point, I just remember the things that make me strong – and then it’s all good.

At least for the next ten minutes…

I have called Tariq from Syria. We had met one year ago at the University of Al Tishreen (at the Syrian coast). He showed me how to “drink Argila” (to smoke Shisha) and he taught me the difference between good behaviour and bad behaviour when you drink Argila.
I showed him that there are Europeans who are sincerely interested in Arab culture.
We had lots of Argilas together and the time with Tariq was amazingly easygoing.

When Tariq picked up the phone, I just said “Marhaban, ya Tariq” (“Hi Tariq”) and he promptly knew that it was Thomas. No doubt. We haven’t heard each other since Eid al Fitr, wich was months ago. And he said: “Hi Thomas! I was talking about you yesterday with Maya… When will you return and drink Argila with us?”. Everything was like we would daily talk to each other.

I know that when I travel tomorrow, phone him and say: “So, let’s go for an Argila”, we will go for an Argila. Without any problem. And when I don’t come, we’ll meet in the future – Inshallah.

Tariq is a sincere man. And he has these qualities typical for Middle Eastern people: spontaneity and hospitality. Qualities I adore.

It was the first time we could entirely speak Arabic and we didn’t have to change to English – and I felt that it’s worth the effort to learn this goddamned language…