Bad is good. I like bad. July 5

Wow, I was going out of my mind last time I wrote a blog entry. Good news, I found my cure. Bad news, you might read about it in the news.

I do not think I should talk about it in order to avoid incriminating myself if this blog ever gets connected to me.

Okay, okay, I’ll cough it out; I nailed all his furniture to the ceiling while he was sleeping. I even wrote a message with lipstick on his mirror. I set it up so it looks like a demon or a ghost actually did it. I also found his lube and did stuff to it, but I won’t say what.

I know, I know, it sounds a little psycho of me. But it was just one of those things that if you do not release, you go insane forever. My choices were forever insanity or brief episode of insanity. I made the smart choice.

When he woke up, he freaked out, ran across his apartment a few times, tripped over and lost consciousness. In turn, I freaked out and thought he died. I was quite the scare, but I can’t blame karma for going after me.

Good one, Karma, good one.

Anyway, I put the furniture back down, and bought him a new lube. When he woke up, he figured he was just dreaming. He eventually justified the big bruise where he banged his head on his head on his way down.

The news thing? Yeah, I over did it and hung his car to the side of his building. It took a lot of effort, logistics, and math calculations to do it, if you were wondering. Anyway, I didn’t manage to get it down in time, and a dozen people saw it.

I’m really considering becoming a villain. It is a lot more fun than I could have ever imaged.

On a serious note, I know he’s not a bad guy. If anyone is bad, it’s probably me. I had no right to do what I did. It is his right to do whatever he wants in his private life, and shag whomever he wants to shag. It wasn’t my place to act like the wrath of God, especially when it comes to social rules that I hardly agree with. Jealousy drove me blinding, and it was plain spiteful and evil. I have guilt boiling up inside of me that I’m not ready to face off yet.

By the way, I found a note on my car this morning. It was from my shadow. It said,

“You’re not the only one with powers. We will talk soon when you are ready.”

So, here is my reply message to my shadow:

Dear Mr. Shadow,

Thank you for your message, but I like to do things at my own pace. Your face is on my surveillance camera. We will talk soon, when I find you 😉

Your ass is mine,

Me.

Give me a break! July 4

Someone is still following me.

Last Wednesday night, I was working out in my spot around 3 am when I saw a shadow. It was quick; quick enough for me to almost miss. I spent the next hour surveying the area. Other than a few lizards and dessert plants, no life existed. I kept flinching at the faintest noise, even punching at plants that looked like people. Who ever it was, I thought, they owed me my piece of mind.

Six hours later, I saw the shadow again between two building. I was driving to work, so leaving the car and chasing after it didn’t seem like the smartest option. But I’m not smart. I left the car mid street, and ran towards the shadows as I heard a nice assortment of the top 20 Egyptian curse words. I’m not totally dumb thought; I didn’t use my super speed.

I managed to chase it for 30 seconds before finally losing track of it in one of the narrow alleyways. It was a dead end so I probably took the wrong turn or whoever is following me knows how to fly or climb real fast. My shadow has powers, so now I’m worried.

I had a session with Mahmoud after work. I almost begged him for some sedatives. It feels as if I’m slipping down a water slide and I can’t stop. Honestly, I didn’t need to beg for a prescription; I could probably snatch the drug no problem or even pay off the pharmacist, but for some reason, I needed his blessing. It would be my first time to take a sedative. I know you’re thinking, “Don’t be dumb, you need to be fully conscious to take down whoever is coming your way”. Well, I’m not even sure if it would work or not. I’d probably need to gulp down the dozen pills for it to work. But I need it to work. I do. You don’t understand; I might loose my mind if they don’t!

It’s more than just the people following me, but I have so many secrets and roles to play that I sometimes I forget which person I really am. The only pillar in my life is my freaking therapist who I just freaking caught shagging a girl in his car in Tagamoa. I’m not a religious person, but it’s I’m very upset at him. It’s freaking Ramadan dude!

I know I’m not the most pious person either; stalking him on his date and such. But seriously, is there a girl out there who wouldn’t have done it if she had the abilities too. I have another session today but I’m not sure if I can talk to him anymore.

I’m typing so fast, he “H” on my keyboard just chipped off. Oh god, I’m I’m spinning off the road. I need a break.

The cycle of Evil: Anyone like me out there? – June 30

Yesterday, Egypt’s state prosecutor died in a car bombing. It wasn’t the first bombing, or even the 20th this year, but they are getting more fatal. I never got any paper cuts or bruises, but I don’t know if I’m bomb-proof. Perhaps to an extent I’m am; after all my skin is resistant to heat and blast trauma. But I’m still scared, but not from getting hurt. Warranted, my loved ones mortality is a constant nightmare when I eventually sleep, but the real horror is how human willingness and need to destruct in order to “make a point”. Someone thought it was justifiable to shatter the souls, houses. work places of others. I don’t think that person or group is missing any sleep: evil is always has an excuse. What’s worse is, evil is cycle and it always births more ugliness.

When I think about it, it seems shocking how “human” and “humane” could be so similar in letters but so different in essence. Perhaps it is our death race is our version of evolution and survival of the fittest. If so, what would they, regular folk,  do if there were more of superpowers around? What if they too get dragged into the cycle of evilness and lust for power? Tough luck, regular humans. I’m torn; I don’t want to be the only one, but I don’t want others like me to screw up humanity even though I’m not even sure if humans deserves to survive.

On the personal end of things, I’ve been spending more time with Mahmoud, or “around him”. It started up innocent. I just wanted to run into him outside his therapy clinic, so I followed him home and “listened in”. In just one hour, this girl “Mona” called him twice. TWICE. He talked to her in BABY VOICE. Who does that?! My uterus almost atrophied. Men, baby voice is not sexy. Akhh! I’m not going to lie; I would’ve liked it if I was directed to me not her. Anyway, I spent last night outside his window. Yes, yes, you are thinking I’m his stalker now. I’m not. Just let me explain myself; I ought to know more about him if I was to compete with “Mona”, right?

Shopping for blood- June 5

The Egyptian people, even I, have forgotten about the war since my last post. Superpowers or not, humanity has a short attention span and its shaped by the media. Since then the media has decided that a drunk woman’s melt down at the airport was more worthy of its headlines. You see, she’s sexy and controversial; she is the right recipe to distract people.

Anyway, it might seem as if I’ve forgotten about this blog, but I didn’t. My therapist, Mahmoud, asks me if I still post my thoughts here, so I lie and say yes. It is not a complete lie. I write entries and stare at them for hours in the editing box before deleting them. I was scared, but I’ve had enough of fear. You see, ever since my last post, I’ve been seeing shadows following me. Maybe I’m overreacting; its quite possible my powers have finally fried my brain. Maybe, just maybe, one of you wants to hurt me. One of you wants to cut my body to drain my blood and do it like power shots. Synthesize a new drug, and call it “blood of the Gods”, “devil’s juice”, or some other crappy name.

Bad news: My blood is toxic. Don’t think I didn’t try dosing the people close to me with it. I didn’t want to be alone; I wanted someone like me that I can trust. My brother spent two weeks in the hospital, and I was only 6. The poison has been seeping inside of me for about 20 years. If you are reading this and would like a sip, come find me if you dare.

Why am I saying this now? I’m sick of bending, hiding, and giving in because of fear. My super powers are just a glimpse of the many things I’m hiding under my bed. I’m an Egyptian girl; If I was in closet, my closet would be in a closet. I dress what I should dress, I work what I should work, say what I should say, but I can’t think or believe what I “should”, so fuck! it I’m coming out as me at least on this anonymous blog. I’m not going to hunt for trouble, but if trouble finds me on its own, then it was the price I had to pay to keep myself from becoming a puppeteered dummy.

So follow me. I’m not going to hold back anymore.

A Villian or a Superhero? April 5, 2015

A couple of days ago, I woke up to the news of  my country going into war. You’re probably thinking, “You’ve superpowers; your country has the war in its pocket.”

In fact, you might also be expecting a girl like me to jump at the chance to be a martyr as it is my obligation as a bullet-proof citizen to get bombed for my country. You are wrong, Miss (or Mister). I didn’t even look up who we’re going to fight. Really, I have no place sticking my nose into wars. I don’t even fight crime. You know why? Because powers don’t make heroes. In fact, only “attention-whores who think they look good in tights, and wear their underwear on the outside” make heroes. So even though I look awesome in tights (I squat), being a hero is not my thing.

If you have to slap me with a label, I’m probably a villain. Last week, a mugger snatched a lady’s bag right in front of me, so I stalked him for two hours. He ended up  sleeping in ragged shed that smelled like a dead rat with his wife and five kids. For a second, pity tempted me like a sexy guy, but then I spiked his food and water with enough laxatives for an elephant. Pretty sure he has haemorrhoids now.

What I did was pure sadistic revenge, and even though I returned the woman’s bag, I only did it because I didn’t want him to have it. Doesn’t that make me evil? So I’d rather stay a bystander than apply my own method of justice, because no one will like it. There is a Japanese TV-thing about a guy who gets a notebook that kills people if he writes down their names in it, so he starts jotting down the names of criminals. Before you know it, he’s writing down the names of everyone who opposes him. That’s the way humans are. We were not made to have power. In fact, just being in any position of power over others is unnatural to us; it spoils a human like adding too much salt to rice. What’s worse, you can’t un-salt the rice once it had been over-salted. It is ruined forever, like me. Do you get it?  No, you don’t. If you did, you’d know I’m completely powerless. You don’t put out a fire with oil. You don’t end a war with violence. If I join then some other jerk with powers- I can’t be the only one- will join the other side. The result: more dead people.

I’m ranting as I expected I will. You see, my therapist sucks at his job. He recommended I start this blog, because he feels like I’m holding back in our sessions, and I “need a place where I can be 100% honest” with myself. He’s the kind of guy I’d hate, but somehow I love him so much I’d eat him. Oh God, that sounded so creepy. Why am I so fucked up?

Anyway, I’ll be posting a new entry every other day (or whenever I remember to take my phone into the bathroom with me).

Chao.