While I Was Alone (Chapter I)

While I Was Alone

         While I was going back home,I passed by a couple of cats, maybe a cat and his girlfriend, I took a moment to look at them as they walk side by side and exchange looks at each other, I wasn't obviously jealous because even cats are living some kind of intimacy. I was wondering that even if I am alone , the idea of starting a new relationship seems to me as scary as going to prison , So I took a pen and a paper and start writing.
         The first thing to do was obviously looking for a girl, since the day I started college I felt the impact of not having my family around, and I hated Marrakesh, in the beginning atleast.going back to the girl, she must or should be beautiful, funny and well minded as I like to call it, and she has to have many conversations with me before I start anything serious.
         Right there I stopped, I asked my self, Why do I need her to have a conversation with me ?you might find this weird,or cliche, but I was never attracted to girl for her beauty, or the shape of her ass, or even the size of her breasts. It was always the words that comes out of her mouth and the influence they do to me.
         It is generaly like this, you start talking to a girl, she start using her weapons pushed by her instincts as a female not as a woman, and finally she decides weither to keep talking to you or not based on: first, who you are, the way you look and what you wear, and sometimes what you say, because the last thing to see is what you say if the other things didn't work.
         And yet, you'll be told that the way you think is what made you succeed the mission. Trust me body,it is not,well, rarely.
         Paranoia,I writed down that I have some kind of paranoia, I find it harder than ever to trust any girl with myself anymore, and I used the term 'my self' because the degree of naivety I was in made me give all myself to the person I loved. My mind made an aggressive nonjudgmental judgement to not do what he considered a fatal mistake again. I found out after recalling my memories that during the past year and this year, I had a significant amount of chances to start some kind or some real kind of relationships. I was attracted, and in the first steps of liking someone, but I always do the act that plays the rule of poison which puts an end to the beginning of everything. What's absurd, is that I am asking my self now , why did I do that!
         A part of me can easily answer that question, I was protecting myself, but from what. It just feels like if I ever do that I will no more be myself, which made me think that I love myself more than the idea of having someone who loves the same self, and that I am the only person who would never redo that mistake.
         I asked myself again, Was it really a mistake?! Does not everyone do this mistake all the time? Or I am just too arrogant to accept it!
         The weird thing about these pieces of paper I writed down and became a book after, Is that I put questions and answer them in an essay to convince myself that there is a rational reason why I decided not to do that anymore, convincing myself with the Idea of :"hey man, you are better all by your own", that's what I've been telling myself even now. And what insanely increases my longing state, Is that even if my brain forgets, my arms still remember the warmth of being held, my chest remembers the feeling of being cuddled, my lips never forgot the taste of being kissed. I do remember, I do even dream about it, but I wake up as cold as you can imagine, with a smile that is the only warm thing in my body.
         Am I smiling out of Nostalgia? Or out of Irony? The irony of avoiding a certain state and unconsciously seeking for it at the same time. That would definitely make me either an hypocrite, or a repressed person, but repression is generally a feeling created by lacking something, the problem here is that I had it, I had it all , every single aspect of being in love that pops up on your minds, I had it all, and when I look at people having it more or less than the way I had it, I ridiculously tell my self as a mature person, or as the wise man who already had the experience of everything: "Let it be, I had enough of that".
         "That",my experience was only 1 or 2 romantic relationships, though I am convincing myself that this is it, there won't be any change in the cycle of how those things go, I will have the same episodes of the same drama with a different title. I do tell my self that, and after a few minutes, and always while I am going back home in the cold roads of Marrakesh, my hands remember how warm they could be if someone was holding it at that moment since I don't have gloves. And I don't get angry , or sad , or depressed, in fact I don't feel anything at all, the same cold reaction to the nostalgia feeling that maybe I am creating intentionally. And then, I go back to the main question after putting so many hypotheticals. Just In case, How should this girl be?
         In that moment, I imagine myself walking in the street and with some dramatic scene, I meat the girl I am seeking for, and just after that, I realize that it won't happen like this, and I recall the whole cycle of the existing thinking.
         Maybe, just maybe, The reason why I am alone Is that I consider no one worth my own suffering in the name of love, suffering from the excessive thinking and unnecessary obsession. Because, In my terms, I was in love, but I was also suffering. Which made me think again, what exactly am I missing ? Being in love , or suffering from it, and that is the most scary idea I am having at the moment, because, there is two things that unite people; money and sufferance.
         I reach the appartement I am renting after walking two killometers and a half, I stop by the bakery to buy bread and start hopping while I am counting stairs that I will find some remaining tea in the pot.
         I try to sleep after a usual day, I close my eyes, I feel some kind of fake satisfaction and self recognition, that me among the millions and billions of people this wide world, I manage to fall asleep, Deeply asleep. Even if my dreams remember me that it isn't any kind of satisfaction or recognition, and It's just the time- like everyday- wher I stop thinking about what I am thinking about the whole time, and just take a break.
         It's 9:00 AM, a beautiful Sunday morning, I usually wake up early on Sundays, I have my breakfast, put my shoes on and have a walk. The streets of this wretched city shout with a loud silence on Sundays, and only between 7 AM and 12 AM, I exploit this period to explore how the city would look like without any tentations. It looks innocent.
         Hamza, my freind, calls at 6:00 PM and asks me if I will be joining them for a trip. I went. I took my time while I am going somewher, and I always choose to walk, because my brain speaks to me as my feet start moving. I can bravely say that I am the only single person in my school, even my freinds Hamza and Mustapha have girlfreinds, that is why I plan every step of mine, every word and sight before taking action, beacuse I do trust my freinds to an extant, but I don't trust girls. I reach the place, and try to organize seats in a way where I can only touch the table and my chair. We usually talk about a specefic theme or topic that is deep as we like to call it and throw jokes on how single I am in a city where singularity is a shame, but for me, being single was a bless. I almost finish my drink, while looking at my freinds and their girls in each others' arms. I smile, the way they do in romance movies, and right there they start asking questions about my intimate past, I recall it all in my mind before telling them, and I decide not to tell them eventually.
         I reach the appartement after counting the 91 stairs, check my phone and the teapot as usual. I found three missed calls from my mother, I call her back to hear her wise voice, I head up to the roof while I am telling her about the main events of my day whithout mentiening the time I spent at the cafe. In my town in general, being a student who is studying in a city means you should be seen in your college, the mosque and your house. Any other places are considered off limits and you became a bad guy. The Absurd thing is that the majority of us try to keep this image in their hometown as they do all vices. I don't drink or smoke, but I love my mother to an extant that anything less than satisfaction from her side is like doom for me, so I do my best to be the version she built of me. I stay longer on the roof after finishing with my mom, I star at the real face of Marrakesh on the top of this buliding, I hark to the sounds carried by wind, while they lecture the tragedy of everyone it passes by.