Ahmed Abdelazeem

“How lonely am I ?


I am 21 year old. I wake up get ready for college.

I go to the Car stop where I have a bunch of accquaintances whom I go to college with.

If I'm unfortunately late to the stop, I miss the Car . But the accquaintances rarely halt the car for me. I have to phone and ask them to halt the car.

In the car I don't sit beside anyone because the people I like don't like me and vice versa.

I get down at college. Attend all the boring classes. I want to skip a class and enjoy with friends but I rarely do so because I don't have friends and the ones I have don't hang out with me.

I often look at people around and wonder how everyone has friends and are cared for. And also wonder why I am never cared for and why I am not a priority to anyone.

I reach home and rest for few minutes before my mom knocks on my door.

I expect her to ask about my day. But she never does. Sometimes I blurt it out because I want to talk to people.

I have a different relationship with my dad. He thinks I don't respect him and that I am an arrogant and self centered brat. I am tired of explaining him that I'm not. I am just opinionated. I gave up.

Neither my parents nor my sis or bro ask me about my life and rarely share theirs.

I do have a best friend who always messages and phones when she has something to say. That would mostly be about his girlfriend .

But at times even though I try not to message him of my life. I do. I message him about how lonely I am.

I always wanted a guy or a girl best friend. But he or she rarely talk to me. The girl who talk are extremely repulsive or very creepy.

And I have a girl who made me believe that I was special for her.She was the only person who made me feel that way. I knew and still know that she is just toying with me. Yet I hope that's not true.

I want to be happy and experience things like every normal person. But it seems impossible.

And I am tired of being lonely.

I once messaged a popular quoran. I complimented him answers and he replied. When I asked him if I can message him and asked him to be my friend he saw the message and chose not to reply.

A reply, even a rejection is better than getting ignored.

A humble request to people on Quora. For those who advertise to message them regarding any issue should stop doing that if they can't even reply. And for those who follow them. Don't blindly believe people on Quora or IRL

Everyone has a mask.

I feel very depressed at times and I want to consult a doctor. But I am not financially independent. My family doesn't take me seriously when I tell them I want to visit a doctor.

And this is my lonely life.

I just wish I had some body who cared for me and to stand by me.

I don't know if that is possible.

I stared to hate myself. If this continues on maybe I'll be drowning in the river of self hate and depreciation.

Still I have hope. Hope is the only thing I have.

I want my life to change.

If you read the complete answer then,

THANKS for your patience.

People don't have that these days.”
― Ahmed Abdelazeem

“هُنا القاهرةْ
في تَمامِ الساعةِ العاشرْة و عشرْ بالتوقيتِ المحلي لها بدأتُ كِتابةَ هَذهِ الكَلِمات .
أنا بطلٌ في روايةٍ قَديمه .
روايةٌ لمْ يقرأها أحد فهي مَكتوبةٌ بشفراتٍ و بعضَ اللوغاريتماتْ التي لا يَفهمهُا احدٍ سِوىٰ كاتِبها .
هي روايةٌ شبيهه بروايةِ مستر البيرت صاحبَ اشهرَ روايةٍ مكتوبه في سطر واحد .
فأنا لا أستطيعُ أن أكون بطلاً في رواية أكبر من ذلك .
أنا كبالونٍ منفوخ بالهواء حجمه كبير وشكله مذهل يبهر الناظرين .
ولكنه مع اول صدمةٍ من صدامات الواقع الأليم ينفجرُ أشد َ إنفجارٍ ،، ويصبحُ بلا قيمه ،،
وهنا تكمنُ المشكلة. حيثُ يراني الجميعُ بطلَ روايةٍ ولكنني الوحيدُ الذى يعلمُ ماذا أنا .
معرفتي بنفسي تُرهقنى وتصيبني بالحزن .
نعم بالحزنْ ؛ إنه الحزنُ علىٰ نفسي .
نفسي الضائعه المُستهتره التي لا تستطيعُ فِعلَ شئٍ إلا زيادةَ انتفاخِ البالون كما ارى او كتعظيم بطلَ الروايه كرؤيتهم لى .
حاولتُ كثيراً ان اتعايشَ مع الواقعِ المَرسومِ كبطلِ روايهٍ عظيمه كما يقولون . ولكنّي أشعر بأنه قمة التفاهه انها ليست انجازاً او اعجازاً هي بعضُ الخطواتِ التقليديه التي من الممكنِ أن يصنعُها ايَ شخصْ ،، فهو امرٌ لا يَحتاجُ الى بَطلَ روايةْ.
ولكني اظنني عَلمتُ لما اظهرُ كبطلَ روايةٍ لهم .
فأنا دائماً اقولُ لأصدقائي أننى أستطيع ان أُحوّلَ صنائعيْ الصغيرةَ الى أعظم الانجازاتِ منْ خلالِ الحديثِ عنها وتفخيمها؛ فأنا أجيد ذلك بإتقانْ .
فيا لهم من مساكين .
ويا ويلي من مستقبلْ حزين.
النهايه وللحديث بقيه ولو بعد حين.”
― Ahmed Abdelazeem

“Wake up and Fuck every one take your happiness”
― Ahmed Abdelazeem

“I’m the living dead. I feel no connection to any other human. I have no friends and I don’t really care much about my family any longer. I feel no love for them.

I can feel no joy. I’m incapable of feeling physical pleasure. There’s nothing to ever look forward to as a result. I don’t miss anyone or anything. I eat because I feel hunger pangs, but no food tastes like anything I like.

I wear a mask when I’m with other people but it’s been slipping lately. I can’t find the energy to hide the heavy weight of survival and its effect on me. I’m exhausted all the time from the effort of just making it through the day.

This depression has made a mockery of my memory. It’s in tatters. I have no good memories to sustain me. My past is gone. My present is horrid. My future looks like more of the same. In a way, I’m a man without time. Certainly, there’s no meaning in my life. What meaning can there be without even a millisecond of joy? Ah, scratch that. Let’s even put aside joy and shoot for lower. How about a moment of being content? Nope. Not a chance.

I see other people, normal people, who can enjoy themselves. I hear people laughing at something on TV. It makes me cock my head and wonder what that’s like. I’m sure at sometime in my past, I had to have had a wonderful belly laugh. I must have laughed so hard once or twice that my face hurt. Those memories are gone though. Now, the whole concept of “funny” is dead. I stopped going to movies a long time ago. Sitting in a theater crowded with people, every one of them having a better time than you, is incredibly damaging. I wasn’t able to focus for that long anyway. Probably for the best.

Sometimes I fear the thought of being normal again. I think I wouldn’t know how to act. How would I handle being able to feel? Gosh it would be nice to feel again. Anything but this terrible, suffocating pain. The sorrow and the misery is so visceral, I find myself clenching my jaw. It physically hurts me.

Then I realize that it’s silly to worry about that. You see, in spite of all the meds, the ketamine infusions and other treatments, I’m not getting better. I’m getting worse. I was diagnosed 7 years ago but I’m sure I was suffering for longer. Of course, I can’t remember that, but depression is something that crept up on me. It’s silent and oppressive. I don’t even remember what made me think about going to see someone. But I did and it was a pretty clear diagnosis.

So, now what? I keep waking up every morning unfortunately. I don’t fear death any more. That’s for sure. I’ve made some money for the couple of decades I’ve been working and put it away in retirement accounts. I think about how if I was dead that others I once cared for would get that money. Maybe it could at least help them. I don’t know that I’ll ever need it. Even if I don’t end it myself, depression takes a toll on the body. My life expectancy is estimated to be 14 years lower as a result according to the NIH. It won’t be fast enough though. I’m just an empty biological machine that doesn’t know that my soul is gone. My humanity is no more”
― Ahmed Abdelazeem