Michael Daaboul. 25 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Creative designer & writer.
Michael Daaboul. 25 y/o from Australia/Melbourne. Creative designer & writer.
I was cleaning my room and stumbled upon a box with pictures of my ex, letters and ripped letters from me. Even the wrapping from gifts. I didn’t stumble upon it, I knew it was there, under my bed. I like to think I ‘stumbled’ upon it.
I have been conflicted whether or not I should throw the box out. You know, almost effectively consolidating that part of my life into oblivion. Sure, I have the memories, but how long before they fade? I used to keep everything. Anything that represents sentimental value, and I mean anything. Something she touched, notes she wrote, text messages, emails, pictures, wrapping paper, ribbons, envelops, chat logs whatever she was a part of.
I deleted most of these things because I had lengthy negotiations with my mind and heart. After replaying back many memories and adding up all the shit that happened, I came to the conclusion it was not needed. I find that hard to accept. Mostly because I hold on to emotions and the past like an aggressive form of cancer. In my opinion if you don’t inject meaning and feeling into everything you do, especially relationships, than there’s no point.
This is why I have such a hard time eliminating things and people that were a significant part of my life. I have repeatedly removed emotional splinters so I could continue to carry on. After all, why should I keep a part of her in Pandora’s box when she removed me in a heartbeat?
What am I exactly holding on to? A fake ghost in my dreams who smiles at me, holds my hands and we walk towards the sunset? That’s not her. I’m falling in love with my own perception of what I want, not what she is in reality. In reality she doesn’t exist like that and I keep these lingering pieces inside the box as if she was really like that, someone amazing. She appears in my graduation photos, in the family shots because there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I would be with her until the end. I have no doubts. When she graduated, I wasn’t included in a family shot. That action didn’t speak volumes to me, it was a tumour subtly planted on my lungs, ever so slowly taking my breath away.
What’s in front of me is my past and a thousand torn pieces of coloured paper that are my letters that I spent days perfectly crafting for her. I took the shredded pieces when she ripped them without any sentiment. A fit of rage that spoke more of judgement than a human emotion. It has taking me a year and with all my calming thoughts and memories vividly growing as the days continue, I am still contemplating whether or not this box of broken dreams and empty hopes should be removed. It was with a heavy heart and always is to part way with not only my past but a time where true love existed. What holds me back is emotion and every nostalgic memory attached to an anxious feeling when it comes to her.
Does emotion hold me back? If there was no emotion I could freely destroy and forget everything and anything without a single thought. That’s great. At the same time, I might as well not exist because if there’s no emotion, what’s the point? There isn’t any point. I would rather be broken a thousand times and sit in a rabbit hole for all eternity than to be living in a state of numbness, placed in an abandoned city cesspool filled with dead cold hearts.
After all my words, I continue to stare at the blue striped box, the box I used to put her very first gifts in. I would eventually part ways with what’s inside, one day. I can no longer stand to read what she used to feel as that was in another time, in history where you will find only me; and if it was your history and you young lady, and you sir and your daughter and your son and your father and your mother, if it was your box that only you existed in where it was made for two, why should you stay there? There’s no one there anymore, absolutely no one but you and your maddening thoughts.
She has moved on, departed from your box and destroyed every word, gift and hand-crafted letter you ever gave her. She kept nothing, absolutely zero.
And yet, with all of my madness, and poetic words, the box still stares at me and taunts my every effort to remove it from my heart. Haunting me until my sanity overcomes my emotional burden.
This is what it feels like being an actor.
I have a huge following, lots of fans and they adore me. I can tattoo my whole body and my fans would find it sexy, in reality, they don’t like their boyfriends getting tattoos and they don’t like tattoos, either. I’m an exception. I can get away with murder because I’m gorgeous and famous.
I take drugs, I smoke weed and LSD. I have written a novel because I’m creative when I trip out. My fans don’t mind that I take drugs, because I’m successful, but they wouldn’t go out with someone who takes drugs. I’m an exception because I’m hot and my social status makes me, oh god, fuck worthy.
Before I was an actor, no one wanted to know me. I had a few friends and that was about it. I spent most of my time with family.
On set, it’s a different story. I do fuck actresses, crew members, extras it really depends. Most people think it’s a job, you’re a professional, and it’s what you do. My wife has accepted that I’m an actor and I have scenes where I may have to kiss my acting partner. She says there’s nothing to it, it means nothing.
That’s not entirely true. We have several make out scenes and my romantic interest on-screen comes to my trailer to practise how it should be done. She’s in a relationship. We kiss and we enjoy it. It doesn’t just happen on set. After a few sessions, she stays the night in my trailer.
My wife doesn’t know this.
After we finish filming, this fictional relationship doesn’t continue. We know the code, what happens on set, stays there. No one knows, of course, everyone else in the industry does. It explains why actors and actresses aren’t bothered too much, as they’re both kissing and practising in their respective films.
Most times when the set is getting ready, I have a lot of time on my hands to do whatever I want. I could call my wife, but I often find myself chatting up cute female extras. I prefer to do that, because they’re new, attractive and I’d rather do that. I smile and go along with whatever they say, it’s horrible, but I like what I’m doing.
Before I became an actor, I used to throw around a particular question to friends, family members and random people I would meet on the train if they could go out with an actor. It surprises me even now, that they think what we do is just acting. Yes, it’s acting, but are we so narrow minded that when we’re kissing someone on-screen I’m not going to feel anything at all? That I’m not going to enjoy it? That it’s okay because I’m acting?
It’s not. You’re not kissing once for that scene, you’re rehearsing a hundred times. Maybe we needed to rehearse a few times so I could breathe in her sedating perfume and taste her lips one more time because it’s addicting, but we enjoy it so much, we can make out all night.
My wife doesn’t know though, at least the audience will get a pretty authentic scene demonstrating love and raw emotion. It’s acting though, remember?
I’m an actor, doesn’t mean all my human urges and emotions are stripped, but, I reassure my wife, it doesn’t mean anything, I’m only acting. As long as I can make it okay, everything is okay. It’s perfect. All her friends say don’t be so insecure, you’re paranoid and just because your shitty friends did that, doesn’t mean he will. The fact remains, we’re all shitty. Trust is an important component in relationships, but in this scene, we’re gorgeous, we’re fabulous.
Maybe that’s how I really am? Maybe being an actor gives me permission to feel and do what I want to do without the taboo involved. Perfect, I’m an actor, fucking brilliant, literally.
It’s the same as actresses before you call me a pig, they get as much action as I do. Some have fallen in love and got a divorce.
I think it’s terrible, I’m terrible, but now people laugh at my stupid jokes because I’m famous. I laugh like a hyena because you’re hot and you have a big penis. It’s great really, no matter what I do in my personal life or how much of a shithead I am, I’m a sex god, because I’m hot.
I remember going out with my ex one night, well, she was my girlfriend then, ex now. We were at a bar (I wasn’t famous then) and a hot waiter approached and said some lame joke which was a subtle cheap shot at me, ex laughed in hysterics (of course, penetrating my point further) while I thought it was rude. She said to me I had no sense of humour. Fucking hilarious.
Guess what? Now I’m that guy, I’m not even funny, but because I’m such a gorgeous actor, I have a sense of humour and all those restrictions for the average underachiever and struggler is removed.
She didn’t arrive, but was defined
By having graced my heart.
If I had to rely on myself to love her,
How could I feel in solitude?
This love left open, while the wind passes
Through the centre of my hardened hopes.
Perhaps you’re there, perhaps, you’re not
And I had wept, at the thought.
It’s because I’d rather you and only you between
The left and right chambers of my heart.
I would have kept you warm, in this storm
If you had not left me inside, broken, in this
Abandoned, oceanic abyss.
This is the scene. I will set it for you.
I sat there in silence and I knew what was right. I listened through the cracks while the cold air was seeping. It was you and I, loving each other through silence.
Through the earlier years, imperfection was laughable and being side by side, the noise was inaudible.
Mumbling deserted dreams and becoming two separate worlds.
Stop reading for a minute, please. Think. About. What. I. Just. Wrote.
I wrote, “Becoming two separate worlds.”
Do you understand what this means? That’s huge in the context of this written piece. We became TWO SEPARATE WORLDS. We had been on one, and through time, ANOTHER WORLD DEVELOPED and we drifted further and further apart. All this, and somehow, we never saw it coming. Another world brewing right under our nose with you on it and our hearts split in two different directions. Different paths of uncertainty and harsh storms. I, didn’t even get to say goodbye, and just like that, our one path together, abruptly turned into two separate directions without a whisper, without a single care for my beating heart. Staring quietly as your roots violently detached from my planet and roars of gashing winds on yours scream into my atmosphere as if I was a passing comet. Like I was nothing.
You can continue reading…
The last dance erased any hope of us, no ideas, our plans deleted and left with no ambition.
I spoke through the salty air, in this humid night, I stayed through to the morning light. As much yearning and as much pulling my heart roared its sweet madness, the leash attached was merely pulling me along through the harshness.
It took one to love perfectly, and one to watch closely.
One was listening to the heartbeat while the other one was caught wandering the street.
For you sir had to keep one ambition, one hope of a passing dream, will you give your yearning a place to rest? For if you had let your heart run wild with feeling, and I know it had, you’re sure be the fool to be left bleeding. No matter what you have learned or have been a noble man, one was caught passing you out through the night while you were sleeping, and just like the wind, your bearing had meant nothing.
And as our world’s first collided on a sweet summer’s day, and so too, our worlds detached on the wake of Christmas day.
In the end I was told to let go, for all the love I had and the words I poured on the beach’s sands, that the waves would reach the shore and swallow all that remained.
This is what you’re here for. For her; you will fall in love the moment you see her. A picture, in person, wherever the opportunity arises, you will fall in love. She will be a complete stranger to you, but that’s the last thing on your mind. That’s it, you know this is what you want, and you will soon find out you’re what she wants.
You will find out her name, and you will think it’s the best name in the world. You will love every letter that makes up her name. You will love her voice, the way she looks down and locks to your eyes again. You will notice that silly smile on her face and sudden bursts of laughter that she makes when she’s being comfortable with you.
You will know her birthday, you will put the reminder on your phone and set an alarm 2 weeks in advance and spend days, without giving it away, how to make her one day special for her.
You will listen to every word, you will absolutely love her opinions, and you will want to know what she thinks about anything. You don’t care what you do, as long as you’re with her.
All her history, what she did in primary school, what she still remembers. What she did in her teenage years, what she values in life, her goals and dreams. What movie she likes, her favourite food and stare into her eyes because you can’t remember when you have seen brown look so amazing before. The way her eyes look through your heart and capture the butterflies that sink to your stomach.
You will write down all her sizes because everywhere you go, you want to buy her gifts and you want to make sure they fit. Shoes give you the most trouble, sometimes she’s a 7 or 7 and a half or maybe an 8 sometimes. Not because it’s a requirement, but because you want to give her everything and you want her to smile all the time. Even though her cheeks might get sore, it’s the only pain you will tolerate.
You will message her 3 a.m. at night because you’ll know she will be up, for whatever reason and she will respond because you’re the only person who knows she will be up at this time. This synergy you have created, you will message when she’s about to message you. This uncanny situation, with everyday, you both feel like this.
He will know your weaknesses and make a mental note to protect you in every way so only your strengths show. He will know what you dream about because he listened to every word you said. He will know your fears and doubts because he caught every tear that fell from your eyes.
He will finish off the lyrics to a song you have forgotten and then hear your sudden burst of laughter to your amazement that he still remembers those songs from the 90s.
He will know about this lingering fear that you have, that one day you will die. When you lay your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, he knows you fear growing old, but that’s why he holds you every night. He knows it may be his last time he gets to hold you. That’s why he wrote I love you to every message you received. It wasn’t a signature for every message, but if it was, it was from his heart.
All your bad habits he will see, as you shy away from them initially, you become comfortable because he finds your imperfections perfect. The only time imperfection can equal perfect.
Most importantly, he will know your heart, your soul. He has already mapped out your body and keeps a mental outline of your smile.
When you slept, he spent hours looking at you, admiring how calm you are. Your chest slowly moving up and down and your lips slightly opened.
Then something happens along the way.
Something … .
Both of you become strangers again; the only difference this time is, he still knows everything about you. A stranger knows you better than your parents, your siblings, your friends and everyone who mattered to you living in this world. There’s no one else that knows you more than he does.
He mapped out your entire world and made a mental note of it.
Something else happens now.
You can’t remember her voice that clearly, the sound is fading. Her sudden bursts of laughter are silent. You’re not sure if her birthday is on the 9th or the 19th and you’re not so sure if she still dreams about travelling The Universe?
At 3 a.m., you’re not sure if she’s sleeping or awake.
When he sleeps, he wakes up and there’s a shadow where you used to sleep.
And with everyday that happens to go on, it feels more surreal that everything he knew about you was in another place, another time, in another moment locked away in his history. He doesn’t even know if any of this even happened anymore.
Until one day, he can’t remember a thing.
Have you seen happiness in someone else’s memories?
Have you been underneath the happiness of a withered past from photographs that were taken so long ago?
Dark glasses on and no more smiles, riding on a runaway speedboat, embarrassed of the failure.
The elephants comfort you, as they do in your unexplainable dream. Their trunk manages to softly glide across your cheek, wiping away most of your tears. Their eyes burn brightly, burn in agony of seeing you broken. They want you to recognise your blindness and now, you hope that you can see.
Forgiven by their gentle nature, they never forget, behind the city backdrop, a scenery hanging in open wilderness and your horrible release this, disgusting obsessive disease.
Reach out your hands as far as you can and your happiness is not reaching back and forever reaching until you bend. You never did forgive yourself and you reached until you broke.
With your eyes closed, the brightness was lost across the night sky like a shooting star, over with a blink of an eye, and pieces of your fleeting thoughts of regret fall underneath your happiness like scattered meteorites piercing your heart.
"Don’t look so grim child, you were made for this. This is what will make you great."
The Earth moves 108,000 km/h around the Sun and I look at you; we smile at the same speed. We look into each other’s eyes at the same speed. Our hearts beat at the same speed and you and I move at the same speed.
We’re holding on at the same speed. You’re looking at me concerned for our memories, that they are in danger of being lacerated and mangled from us. From all existence.
There’s nothing you can do, we’re just holding on.
As your hands slip through mine at the same speed, it feels like the world has stood still.
Everything has forced our hands as they’re torn apart. Centimetres from calamity, a pertinacious and vile heartache.
Our relationship exposed all at once… at the same speed.
I look for you in the park, and you’re not there.
I walk towards the pier, and you’re not there.
I drive to the countryside, and you’re not there.
I walk under the city lights and through dark buildings, and you’re not there.
I went to our favourite place, our first kiss, and you’re not there.
I found a wooden raft and went out to sea, and you’re not there.
It started to rain and under my umbrella, you weren’t there.
In the black and white of my sadness taken by photographs which couldn’t capture my solitude in colour, you will see me in the darkest part, nothing but a shadow of my former self, the deepest black, alone, waiting for you.
While you’re still not there.
One day you will look at me and you won’t feel a thing.
I remembered the first time we met; expecting the worst, but it couldn’t have gone any better. I wanted the moment to last forever.
Driving back, watching the stars, I remember listening to every word and every laugh you made. Sitting there, staring, smiling. Every time you smiled and every time you swayed your head to the side and the Sun would hide just shy of your hair.
Can you imagine the first time would be gone, and the way you would look at me, falling, where you were feeling every heavy beat? I became lost in that moment, trapped falling for you every day. I was happy and sad at the same time. I would fall so hard for you, that one day when we part, I couldn’t imagine the heartache. I would allow you to destroy me, everyday and I would say in the end, "It was all worth it."
Sooner or later, I realised, I was alone stuck in that memory. While you’re looking at me, not feeling a thing, fading along with the Sun that day.
Although I was a part of you, a part of your dreams, I don’t believe you ever wanted me there. I could feel the lines on your hands, and I continued to follow them; they lead me straight to your heart; I found the smallest details so beautiful with you.
I couldn’t ever imagine you would say to me with your silent eyes that held so much of the ocean… "Never."
I wait for you to take a breath
all along I’m looking at you, waiting
and you wonder what I’m looking at.
You find it hard to believe,
that I could just sit there and stare at you,
for this long;
and you wonder what it could all mean.
I sit back and tell you,
"I could stare at you, all day and all night."
I watch you giggle, and smile, stare down
onto the bed sheet, and back at me again
with your cheeky, cunning grin.
I could do this every day, just sitting here
looking at you and it would be enough.
If you had a chance, you will take it because it’s in your nature. There are compulsions which become habit and with enough reason your actions can be justified. Whether it’s a burning desire or a deep rooted passion, there’s a cause and with this cause brings awareness of contemplation.
Where this long and thoughtful observation takes you, isn’t a crowded place, its solitude and a visual ingredient that spoils the main course. When you should take time to be with yourself, you’re often left out with the crowd, and when you are left to be, you want to jump back in.
Defining courage is not by overcoming your enemies. Enemies are just a distraction to the overall plan. It’s your desires that you need to focus on, it’s YOU.
Subduing your desires and often wondering what you haven’t got.
There’s the chance and nature of the risk or maybe this is the art of dying.
Remember what you have now is what you used to hope for. You won’t develop in happiness of everyday living, but it’s how you survive the difficulties in relationships that define you.
That’s the art of living.
Live to forget and read the last poem you will ever read and remember that on your deathbed, you will have a cosmic collision of your life.
A life that you will repeat and experience again. A cycle of space and time where you will see there’s no past and no future, you will be somewhere between the present repeating in an infinite number of times. Swirled upon moving ridges and being spat out to the same life, same universe and experiencing more of the same in a constant, invisible melody for eternity.
If to you gentlewoman, that death is the end, than the beginning has yet to occur.
Nothing really changes at 3 AM; I still look for another galaxy trying to find another version of me to see if he’s okay. Maybe he has made it through, maybe he’s looking for me too.
And I ponder over miracles or something that can rescue me, being stranded in the ocean; it would seem only a fool goes out alone, it never felt that good.
Who would know that you’re on your own there, silently suffering, but I would think Jesus would whisper you’re not alone. But he didn’t.
See, I stopped believing in Jesus when I saw how quick things fade and when I knew forever was not an eternity. It simply meant forever was being alone in the darkest part.
So in the end she walked away and sins so great I disappeared somewhere in the Milky Way, but the storm followed me there too.
When I saw her sleeping by my side, I remember all the good things I have done… a reminder of what heaven could be like, that I had a piece of it inside.
If there’s someone out there looking for me, you promise that you will rescue me and if you could see past my ways, you will see I’m pleading… pleading that she will always stay.
In my pursuit of unanimous consolidation I found unstable divergence.
In my pursuit of the human spirit and belief I found hopelessness and mental rejection.
For in my pursuits of finding something more, I found something less.
For when I did search to find, I found myself getting mislead and lost.
In pursuit of what I wanted to find something, I didn’t find anything.
In the beginning I was filled with hope, dreams, love and determination. In the end I was left with an unfortunate conclusion, an induced abortion of a disappointment and sadness that comes with life and being a human.
This is what it’s all about. A pursuit you’re not sure of, to find something you’re not sure you need.
To live a life of incapacitated dreams, invalidism and broken emotions. You’ll want to swim, when you don’t know how and you want to drown when you get to the deep end.
1. True love can die
But you won’t.
2. We work like slaves, almost everyday, it’s not right but
Don’t forget what’s more important. Your relationships. Your companion.
3. When your down learn to rely on yourself
No one else will.
4. If you see the one you love everyday, give them space
Otherwise, you’ll end up with a lot of it.
5. Do what’s right
Not what you think is right.
6. Those who hate winter
Are usually miserable people that are not worth hanging around with.
7. Don’t eat meat everyday
Give your liver a break.
8. Have you checked your vitamin D levels
You may have a deficiency.
9. If someone doesn’t like you, and you didn’t do anything wrong
They’re not worth knowing anyway.
10. Stop looking at your phone
When he/she is right next to you.
11. Even the closest person to you
Can forsake you.
12. Listen when your boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife is trying to tell you about something that’s making them unhappy
You can’t listen when it’s too late.
13. Tell your girlfriend or wife she’s beautiful everyday
Make her feel special.
14. When people say it’s not about the money
15. Don’t worry if your sports team is defeated
It’s not the end of the world.
16. Don’t be stingy with money
Buy what you want!
17. Learn to say, that’s my opinion
But, I respect yours.
18. Don’t try to beat life, you will lose
Just, enjoy it.
19. If you’re going to gamble, play the lottery
At least when you win, you’ll have no critics.
20. You don’t have to read many books to be a good writer
Just listen to good lyrics.
21. Don’t waste your time going to nightclubs
Why not have dinner instead? Sit in an ambient lounge? Have a drink with your significant other at a trendy, classy bar.
22. Wear nice clothes
It says a lot about you.
23. Don’t take drugs
Seriously, you’re better than that.
24. Don’t leave things until it’s too late
Put your pride aside and be a bigger person.
25. If there’s no more hope