Skip to main content

Scout on 2026/Perish

 

I pine, I perish. I watch myself from above as I lose my mind over a glance and a laugh. It glazes over me like the silky mixture covering donuts, but in my case, it doesn’t sweeten me; it hardens like a crust. It pretends to be enough to hide that delicate, doughy base underneath. It pretends like the lights above don’t burn their eyes, and the sound of the televisions doesn’t fry their brain. I enjoy light distractions until I get upset with myself for running from reality. You can only run from the world for so long before it comes banging at your door, pushing aside the glaze and releasing you, all dough.

I always dreamed of being a righteous politician, changing the world in a fair system that would reward my intelligence and integrity. Now I watch my country become the opposite of what it was, what I was taught it stood for. Born and raised in the United States, with the language and culture of Egypt in my veins. I believed that being here was better, being an American, whether people perceived me as one, because this was the home of the brave and the land of the free. It is neither, as I watch people murdered in cold blood without a glance.

Who am I to question? Who am I to believe I can help? Who am I but another brown target with deluded dreams? I look back at history, look back as far as I possibly can, and wonder how its values were twisted to convince me I wasn’t walking on spilled blood. I realize that they’ll own me whether I stand here or in Egypt, whether I run or stay. No amount of light can falter my gaze, no one can make me lose focus, no news channel can play this in anyone’s favor. I understand that today, this is important. Today will be history, today will be compared to tomorrow, and therefore, it must be recognized. It is more than a violation of the Constitution, more than a violation of human rights, more than a dictatorship. It is the rejection of my identity as an American. I pine, I perish.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Scout on Maturity/Broken Glass

  On the other side of the glass, I see the perfect version of myself. She walks with a skip in her step, and nothing about herself keeps her up at night or down in the morning. Everyone she knows loves her, and she finds a way to love them back. She has everything, she is everything, and her confidence is unwavering. The days behind the glass are long because they’re spent clawing at myself until I bleed. Why can’t you feel like them, love them like them, be loved like them? I hate when my reflection is too clear, when those eyes look as if they’ve rejected the idea of happiness. The glass breaks. At the shift of my image, I get angry with myself. You, in all your light and life and experience, sit here digging holes through yourself because you don’t fit a perfect mold? You sit here hating the color of your skin, your eyes, your hair, your body, your face, when you have everything to be grateful for? The wall shatters onto me, destroying the person that I ruthlessly despised, a...

Scout on Learning/The Sun

  I was looking for the sun. It was hot out, but I couldn't tell why. Yes, it was bright, but the sun was nowhere to be found. I looked in trees, in birds, and finally, I looked into you. You shone brighter than any other living creature and any crystal. You glittered brighter than gold. I was happy, I knew I was, at least for a little bit. Now, though, I can’t seem to ignore the darkness that creeps in at noon. The cold that seems to disprove your efficiency and the unreliability that refutes your existence. How can the sun disappear when I need its presence the most? How can the sun turn cold?   Tonight, I waited for you to leave so that I could ask the moon. Only, it was gone too because it depended on you. And my orbit shifted, and my planets got lost, but you still brightened up the next morning. This time, though, I doubted depending on you. I wondered why you had hidden from me when I needed you. I wondered why you provided heat and light without giving guidance. I do...

Scout on Disconnect/Letters

  I wrote you a letter, but you never responded. I guess I could summarize it here, but you might not be able to get the original sentiment. It’s more of the fact that I can’t remember exactly how I felt when I wrote it, or what I felt that entire year, to be honest. I know who was there and, most importantly, who wasn’t, and that I was absent, at least mentally. Sometimes I look back and wonder what would have happened if I weren’t me, if I did things like all the people around me, who everyone says are more reasonable and level-headed. The truth is that I’m sorry about how I treated you. You never deserved to be ignored or taken for granted, but I can’t say that you didn’t set it up for yourself. Watching those people trample you and waiting so long to leave, it was as if you thought you couldn’t do better. Maybe you couldn’t, and maybe you still can’t, but there has to be more out there. If you weren’t so angry and rash all the time, then- no, I didn’t mean that, not completely....