Me and Laila .. Do you know the meaning of psychological betrayal?

Meditate with me that story. It is not for anything other than meditation. We have heard and read a lot about betrayal, betrayal of someone, a country, or ourselves; When we cling to hopes and dreams that were hard to tame.

I once fell in love with a girl. I know you will say: I have heard many such stories; Suffering and separation, passion songs and love novels are formulated in the same vein, is it again?

Yes, there is something new. Meditation on the meaning of self-loathing of its owner. Have you heard of it ?!

That girl was – without exaggeration – my life and my life, through the four years of university I was – as it is – in love with her, we talked about everything and anything but confessing love, I think I did not do not confess to her because of the differences between us, and the issue is not Differences, but fear of recognition and response. Immediately after our graduation, communication between us continued, then she was absent for a while, until I was surprised a month ago that her marriage took place!

That shocking moment: the moment I found out about her marriage! Do you understand the meaning of shock, the meaning of betrayal, I was like a drug, someone who got drunk without drinking, I was not aware whether what I heard was true or not ?!

I started taking a lot of images from memory; I got engaged in secret, and I did not show her anything then, how ?! I was in denial.

A moment when you feel like you’re letting yourself down. The poor woman has no guilt – which I still love – she has no hand in it, is that the one who ordered me to love her ?!

I still remember that day of shock, as if I was still living it to this moment, I almost went crazy imagining her with someone else, exchanging love with him, sharing food with him, sharing bed with him , and every detail of her life is the first world of her. He became her support, her refuge, her homeland and her husband, not me!

With my hearing and confirmation of the news, I hurried like a wanderer mad in the streets, as if I were looking for something, I walk without a goal or a compass that directs me, I walk only like a refugee who is out of his fatherland driven away, lost in the streets, my tears are visible from me, and my groans are muffled in my chest, I look at myself in people’s faces I find someone who denies the news, then I look to heaven; I might be in a dream, or the clock starts ticking and the moon goes out. I was suspended and rejected in the worst days of my life, I was without a fatherland, and I could not find a coffin to sympathize with me like my mother did when I was young.

I tried to surrender, surrender and accept the reality: Yes, it is no longer yours, it has become someone else’s, for that stranger whose ribs now lie on his ribs, this stranger who ‘s anger and rage increase when I think of her with him.

I tried to please myself, and only myself, because the matter was inevitable, and every bird had to build a nest for it one day, and he went into his nest. I blamed myself for initiating love, I blamed myself for hiding passion in my chest, and I forgot that passion is a scandal and that longing is a slaughter, everyone who asks me about my condition I say – ‘ a lie – is good, and in fact I am nothing but a bent man, inevitably suppressing tears of speech, even if he tries to control it.

Forget

“Forget” .. “You will love again” .. “Trust God” those words that people say in such stories, they think it helps a person, but they do not help him, who said I try to forget her, nothing happened to me better than her love; A woman I blessed with love was the meaning of my existence.

All the dreams and hopes she had built in my being were tied to the rope of her existence and the hope of her closeness and survival. I felt there was no point in being in a life she was no longer in.

I learned something

But I learned something from that shock; I have learned that man is found by love, he lives for something he loves, keeps searching for it, and is fully willing to spend his life for him, so we can only live with that love, as the river of love flows out in us, how can our ships sail in life, and what is the meaning of our existence without Rowing and sailing sails ?! Love is the basis of existence, so I am thankful that it gives meaning to my life.

I do not regret her love, and if time goes back to me, I would repeat her love a thousand times, and I am not one of the crooks who want to divorce a woman to get the opportunity, so I will my happiness builds on her wounds!

Ideas..and therapy through writing

Thoughts disturb my hours, which I try to occupy with distractions, but in vain, thoughts that carry images of them with that stranger; He hugged her, kissed her, smiled at each other. And here I am, just write!

I feel oppressed and sad, but despite losing the passion for life, I did not think about killing myself, although I began to wonder why I live and the meaning of my existence, I never did not commit suicide because I know that her love contributed a lot to my existence, a beautiful experience that would surely hurt me one day, it was.

I watch her secretly, and secretly I pray to her, like any lover destroyed by depression, but I must progress in life, perhaps on the Day of Resurrection I will meet her, and if God wills and choose her between me and the stranger, show her my condition in her separation and the sincerity of my love for her, may he be thrown into her heart My love then, let us be together in a mole.

As for writing that story, it’s not for nothing, my complaint will not help you, the complaint is to its owner.

Your complaint is my complaint You who suffer pain ..

What tears on the cheeks spills blood

But I write it as a cure, because writing is a simple cure, with a magical effect.

I will not say that I forgot her, for that is a lie, and lying is forbidden. As the night approached, I began to look at the hour, when the tortured thoughts would return to me, so I began to ask, “Is she with him now? Sure, what are you doing … or are they doing!” Torture, all night I taste nothing but torment, and I do not go to sleep because I am afraid to sleep crying, so I wait until my soul is calm and its glow is extinguished, only to come back and again to light when night falls.

But I finally understood the words of Kazem El-Saher’s poem “Anna and Laila”, whose case – a little – applies to mine, in most verses describing the condition of all afflicted lovers:

I was in exile and strangers settled in my land..and they destroyed all my beloved things

Have your eyes betrayed you in falsehood and in lies … Or have you been deceived by deceptive tinsel, my Lady!

But now I’m recovering, or trying to recover, as I try to forget it, and if I can not, but I will try!

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