December 13th, 2012
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No time for grief on the deaths, no time for sadness..
Husseiny's phone number is still on my cell and it feels weird every time I scroll my contact list and see names of people who died.
I love how my mom is becoming this international citizen of the world and how I saw her cooking food, eating, smiling and laughing with international peace and social justice activists in our house in Cairo.
The intellectual and social transformation process I see my entire family going through is breathtaking.
All what's going on around me is hard to process.
I'm not out in the streets as a typical participant anymore, more like an observer.
I found myself going to Tahrir to meet a friend and while I was standing next to one of the many posters and pictures of people I know on the wall I started crying silently.
People continued to smile and show the victory sign while their friends, fiances or kids were taking pictures of them next to the paintings on the walls.
Some people from here and there understand tiny bits, but nobody gets what's going on with me and I always feel that I probably lost the ability to explain myself.
I'm sure it's not just me, maybe I'm too sensitive, maybe I'm self centered, and maybe I just have more time to sit down and reflect on my internal struggles, my psychological and emotional state.
