Why do people suddenly act like they care and say they want to be there for you when they've previously wronged you?

Seeing your childhood friends always triggers strange mellow feelings inside. Aren't they the only ones who knew the real you, before society made you so cynical? 

Why is it sometimes that we see the danger and run straight to it? Are we careless or intentionally masochistic? What is it that drives us during these brief but fatal moments of insanity?

When will I learn not to ignore the cards whenever the predictions aren't to my liking? The cards never lie. And my intuition has never failed me, but my heart has...sadly.

I know some people to whom anger and panic attack management courses wouldn't be a luxury. Moreover, it amuses me when they lash out on others but remain completely blind as far as they're concerned. Their fake contempt is nothing but a masquerade to veil their own iniquity _ and emotional weakness. They're whiners with a bad attitude. But after a certain age, one should stop acting like a defiant teenager.

I sit in silence and wish for oblivion, for what seems like the millionth time. I feel as worn-out as I would be if I were 85. Some wounds are stubborn and don't heal easily. The same questions torture me and obstruct all pleasant memories: would this or that situation have been better had I said different words/known how to express myself better/shown more understanding and indulgence? Should one really worry about the opinion of others or just be grateful for the love given by those who do matter?
We spend a lot of time wondering where we might belong, only to discover that 'home' is really changeable. And we stay perpetually frustrated. Stability doesn't lie in mundane possessions, but in inner serenity. Therefore, it is not given to everyone. Consequently, we struggle, and we falter, and when we do manage to get up on both feet, it is always with less idealism and more cynicism. Just thinking about my lost candor and trustfulness makes me angry...and sorrowful.
How I wish I could see life again from the eyes of a little girl!...
The last time I was in a club, I fell into some sort of a trance...I could vaguely perceive the people around me and could barely hear the music. Millions of colors and sounds melted into a kaleidoscope that suddenly seemed bulky and almost frightening. I just wanted to escape. What was I doing there? I felt like a stranger, like I didn't belong there, as if fun or whatever people call it was not for me at the moment.
The worst thing ever is feeling alone and estranged despite the presence of your loved ones...But I wonder...isn't this exile really self-inflicted?...

If I were to describe each star sign in 3 words...
Aries: quick-tempered, passionate, sociable
Taurus: stubborn, patient, practical
Gemini: ambivalent, inquisitive, expressive
Cancer: hypersensitive, protective, resentful
Leo: ambitious, generous, proud
Virgo: perfectionist, hypercritical, introverted
Libra: easygoing, indecisive, romantic
Scorpio: quick-tempered, generous, secretive
Sagittarius: daring, outgoing, tactless
Capricorn: ambitious, cautious, rigid
Aquarius: perceptive, tolerant, temperamental
Pisces: idealistic, secretive, indecisive

What has she become? She is always on the defensive. She complains about whiners and criticizes unmotivated people, yet is a constant nagger herself. She lacks passion and has lost all sense of indulgence. She sees the worst in everyone and everything. She fiercely fights for her individuality, yet she is too blind to notice the influence some people have on her. She uses her tragic stories to attract people's attention, yet deep down she has become apathetic. Sometimes she pretends she's leading the life of her dreams, yet she isn't at peace with herself. How can she even speak of finding quietude? I don't get it. I wonder what her wake up call would be. Oh, me and my silly habit of worrying about people I'm not even close to!

Cancer is one of the things I fear the most. I hope I never lose anyone to such an infuriating disease. I don't think I could bear  seeing someone dear to me slowly wither away.

- 3 things that scare me: slow death, love-hate relationships, the fate of my country.
- 3 countries I want to visit: Ireland, Mexico, Peru.
- 3 good things about my personality: open-mindedness, honesty, acute intuition.
- 3 bad things about my personality: overanalyzing, sarcasm, melancholy.
- 3 things that fascinate me: ancient civilizations (namely the Phoenicians, the Incas, the Celts), symbolism, criminology.
- 3 authors/poets I love: Régine Deforges (whom I've had the pleasure of interviewing), Vladimir Volkoff, Nadia Tuéni. But I could easily add a dozen others names, such as Amélie Nothomb and Charles Baudelaire.
- Countries I've been to: France, Italy, Spain, Greece, UAE, China, Qatar, Tunisia, England, and Scotland.
- I am happiest when...I feel productive; I'm around my close friends.
- I wish I could...travel in time.
- What word would you most like people to associate with you? Aquarius.

You can rely on others for support, but you shouldn't depend on them emotionally. I know people who will collapse without the constant presence of their boyfriend/friend/whomever they've projected their need on. That's sad, and dangerous if I might add, and I wish I could make them realize that before it's too late...

All I have to do is close my eyes to feel the warmth of the Spanish sun again. To smell the tapas in the Madrilenian bars. To be awed by the fabulous vision of the Alhambra at sunset. To relax on a bench in Barcelona while contemplating impressive specimens of Gothic architecture. To smell the wheat fields in Andalusia. To spend a soothing time in a patio nested between multicolored flowers.
I've left part of my heart in Andalusia. My eyes are still filled with the melancholic fields of wheat and olive trees, the whitewashed houses centered around patios, the magnificent gothic, baroque and Moresque monuments, and the Andalusians' exceptional kindness.

It amazes me how some people realize they've wronged you and suddenly try to please you in every way. Sure, you might eventually forgive, but what of the palpable friction that will forever remain in their presence?

Quietude...that's when I'm in his strong, comforting arms, and it's pouring outside.

As I held her close to my heart, I was submerged with waves of guilt...How could I have neglected her for so long?  I know I had to 'take the shackles off my feet' first, but surely I could have spared some time to express my concern!  She spoke and spoke, and I listened to every word as she kept her little pale hand in mine. She still can't fathom her mother's death. And she's been unable to communicate with her father because he's been lost in his own miserable world. For a few hours there, her pain was mine. I've known how to comfort her since our school years, and I said the exact words she needed to hear...

The things you see and hear in a hospital's waiting room...things that bring tears to your eyes, things that irritate you, things that relieve you, things that amuse you. It's a little awkward catching bits and pieces of people's dramas...and melodramas. It's a shame how some doctors are so selfish and greedy, and it's sad when people blabber about others' misfortunes.

I'm proud of myself, proud of standing strong, proud of my self-control. From now on, I shall exhort myself to patience and indulgence, regardless if people deserve it or not, because resentment ultimately leads to self-destruction, and we can't allow that to happen, can we?

I don't give my trust easily, to say the least, but thanks to him, I will now love myself even more and be tactful with others, and learn to let go of all unpleasant thoughts. It's a crime to ignore one's talents but it's even a bigger crime not to appreciate the comforting presence of special people.

I have the essential ingredients of happiness in hand. And yet...My melancholy is perpetual and incurable because it has no concrete cause. It is inborn, inherent, sometimes incoherent. I'm not jaded. I'm no drama queen. I simply see beauty in pain and pain in beauty.

I want to be free. I want to always find time for my activities. I don't want to be labeled a workaholic. I want to know people from every corner of the world. I want to focus on the complexity of human relations and the super-complexity of the microcosm-macrocosm connection. I want the overall sense of uneasiness in my country to disappear. I want my country to rule itself, and I want sectarianism and the friction it causes in every work and social environment to stop. I want to have thousands of dollars to donate to my hometown. I want to be able to read 10 books at a time. I want to be able to make all my loved ones happy. I want my friends to return home, they've been abroad too long. I want to be able to forgive and forget. I want to visit all the places I long to see and then write a book about the non-touristic areas that symbolize the real traditional culture; you know, those little stories that perfectly illustrate a culture's 'mood'. And in the future, I want to  successfully juggle my career and my personal/family life. I believe in real, eternal love because it has to exist. Too many songs, books and real stories attest to that. And I want to grab every single workaholic and say: "Please, please see the world from a broader perspective!"

Which is better, knowing a little about everything, or becoming a 'limited' expert focused on a few select subjects? If time weren't an issue and if hypnopedia were widely available , I would definitely pick both options.

Each day that breaks brings new disappointments and wipes out more and more illusions. Tell me, what is there to rejoice in, when all you long for drifts farther and farther away?

Though we often feel death comes awfully early, it's never too late to live.

I hate myself when I have so much work piled up but spend most of my time indulging in personal, albeit "therapeutic" activities.

Today I saw The Fair. The flow of memories washed over me as soon as I set my eyes on him. He looked pretty much the same as before, with his short blond hair, cold cobalt eyes, fair complexion, muscular body, and dark clothes. He was one of my uncle's favourite bodyguards, and he used to drive me and my cousins wherever we fancied. My uncle didn't have bodyguards because he was a celebrity, but rather because he was somebody in the Party. Something in those patriotic songs still makes me shiver. Whenever I listen to them, they bring *those* days back, the times when it wasn't uncommon for a little girl to go for a ride in a Jeep loaded with guns and grenades, and listen to militia men exchange obscure messages through their walky-talkies.
I didn't talk to the Fair today; what could I have possibly said to the man who used to serve his country but later turned into a criminal? I'd rather remember him as the handsome man who used to console me with abrupt words: "You'll be alright, kid. C'mon, I'll buy ya an ice-cream."

The Lebanese are extremely fond of club hopping, and it's almost a social must to go to at least 3 different places on the weekend. It's this excessive, sometimes fake joie de vivre that kept them going during and after the war.

Sometimes I feel so happy I want to embrace the world and swallow the sun.

There are certain people I instinctively feel very protective of, even though we may not be close. One day that will be my downfall.