Thebookproject

I was thirteen when I wrote on the cover of my recycled notebook "Written by Sarra". Ever since that moment my topics have changed and I have changed a lot but I still write for the sake of writing. I present to you random collections of my writings....

[theboookproject]

How would your eyes sparkle if they had no tears ? 

[theboookproject]

Let them talk about my vagina

Part 1: Black hole, vagina hole. They think am the source of life. Little babies covered in blood, I must fulfill the circle of life. No babies, no man to serve. Her mother is sad but she is not. Let me marry you, said the guy next door. But she said, no thanks. He got hurt, so he said "she must've been touched". Vagina here vagina there, he said Don't forget it must be tight. She thought it was true love, He only remembered one way to fuck. Black hole, vagina hole, Where is the source of life ?? Between his legs? Or the cells of her mind? Between his legs? Or the wholeness of her life? Between his legs? Or the freedom of her heart?

[theboookproject]

I often prayed and I had nothing to say. Nothing to want, nothing to complain. Then I remembered when Rumi said " if you only say one prayer in a day, make it thank you". Then I started thanking and I don't think I could ever stop. Thank you for all that was, that is and that will be. Thank you for the pains before the joys. Thank you for what I was given and for what was taken away from me. Thank you for life and thank you for death. Thank you for my mind, my body, my soul, my lovers, my haters, my energy takers. Thank you for the blue skies and the warm sand under my feet. Thank you that all of this is temporary, thank you for endings. May my ending be peaceful. As peaceful as the silent white cotton sheets slowly becoming nothing and peacefully erasing the existence that I had the honor to live. Thank you for my parents, their parents and the parents that had their parents. اللهم لك الحمد على كلّ ما كان، و على كلّ ما سيكون، منك ولدنا و إليكَ سنعود.

[theboookproject]

Don't kill our kids.. Shouted the old Palestinian man .. He told the soldiers "you have families too".. But he was covered with tear gas.. Don't steal our women .. Said the old Yazidi woman to an ISIS soldier.. "Is that what your Quran says ?" Why did my son die so young ? The Emirati grandmother whispered to herself.. "I will tell Allah everything I saw". A Syrian child promised .. Moments before he died.. Where is Allah? Where is Buddha? Where is Mary? Where is Jesus?

Everyone asked. 

[theboookproject]

Virginity of one's body doesn't mean the virginity of their soul. Their heart may have been penetrated back and forth.

[theboookproject]

Nothing is perfect.

Nothing is perfect, not your eyes, nor my heart. Not our words, our gestures, our future or all the present verbs which we write our breaths with .. Do you know how the taste of lemon turns sweet? I don't either. It never turns sweet. I am not sweet.. That's how I prefer my tea.. That's how I prefer my cakes.. less sugar, less love, less tenderness. Do you like the color of my new lipstick? She said it's called depression love.. like how sugar burns to shine into a golden caramel.. Maybe I like burnt sugar.. maybe I like a burnt heart..

[theboookproject]

childhood in an oil rich country

"Green eyes. The first eyes that ever scared me were green. I was 4. I started KG1. I don't remember his name and I don't want to. He was the bus driver. He was a monster to my eyes. I felt cold every time I saw him. He hated his job, he hated me, he hated the boys even more. His voice. His face when it turns pink as he shouts at 7:00 AM. I was scared to death. It wasn't enough that there was Tahani who told me that I shouldn't look pretty when I come to class. It wasn't enough that my only friend had an accident and broke his legs. The only people who were nice to me were my teachers. I was the only one who knew how to count and remembered our small home works. I still can't forget how I felt every morning. Those first 5 years of my life are the result of me having to fight serious anxiety and depression symptoms in the age of 25. Be kind to kids, they have dreams .. " (childhood in an oil rich country, chapter 2: I can't live without my pills.)

"Ever saw a child trying to kill herself?. I thought she was crazy at the time and now I realised it was very normal with the kind of mother she had.. I myself couldn't get away from her mother's anger and violence. I hated her mother so much. The girl was so wild, loud and beautiful. We were walking in a bright afternoon, we probably wanted to get ice cream. it's an unclear memory.. I think she suddenly said "I want to kill myself" or "I want the car to run into me". But I know she ran in the middle of the street and there was a taxi car coming. She had enough. She was 5 or 6..(am one year older).. her sister (2 years older) snitched her and slapped her so hard in the face "CRAZY!!". The girl kept crying all the way back home. I think it's because they kept calling her crazy that she was going crazy. She had all the signs of a bipolar in one little kid. (am not sure if that's accurate though). She Laughs so hard, cries so hard, wants to die then wants to play all at once. " (Childhood in an oil rich country, Sarra Alshehhi).

[unrar]

United Arab Emirates, Dubai 1970,  Eve Arnold.

[theboookproject]

In today's destroyed world, your money is useless without your humanity. We should teach children how to be kind humans instead of teaching them how to get a job and make money.

Sarra’a Abdulaziz Alshehhi (A facebook status) 

[theboookproject]

Blessed with enough heart breaks in life that I was granted the ability to dream. How else are we going to take away our nightmares, if not for our tiny little dreams?

Sarra’a Abdulaziz Alshehhi (A Facebook status) 

[theboookproject]

From (The book of sorrow)

"Kiss my heart.. Hold it for me, It's going to fall ..

Cover my tiered eyes.. Tell me that am still alive..

Make love to my sorrow.. Tell me fake little stories..

Whisper to my body.. Tell it to live for another day..

Lie to me.. Lie to my heart " 

19- Nov-2015 

[theboookproject]

"My body is nothing but a closed chamber to my freedom loving soul.. "

(Yearning For Eternal Freedom, Sarra.A)

[theboookproject]

Diary (2015)

In June 2015, I was so happy I wrapped my first year in film school and I was finally home. I remember how I was excited about the first day of going out with my cousin and her friends. We were laughing so much in the car and we were singing.. Then just like a grace anatomy episode there was a BANG! A car accident..! A car came from no where .. My eyes were closed in half of a second and that was the scariest moment of my life, I didn't know what I will see after I open my eyes .. Are my organs in place ? Are the others alive? I opened my eyes, I checked my body, everything was in its place. I looked around, they were all breathing. The driver didn't move. Her sister pushed my body and made me open the door to the middle of the street shouting "my sister ! My sister! She just had a surgery!!". Moments later and while I was in the ambulance with her and we were relieved that it was all fine. I said to myself "shit.. What was the last art work I left to the world ? No that can't be it.." I just couldn't sleep knowing that there are so many things I still want to say and I could have died and not tell them.. 

[theboookproject]

My Single love life

"You love me for my dark circles, my eyebrow scar, my traumatized jaw from my skating accident. My constant flat feet pains and knee pains. You love me for my depression, my constant need to grieve so I can function like everyone else. You love me when I lose and put on weight and have to change my wardrobe and get more stretch marks because of that. You love me for when I wake up at 3:00 AM to paint or write about my horrible nightmare. You love me when I decide that I want to change my career and even my environment. You love me but I know you must leave me. you love me and I love you too. Who did ever say that two lovers are for each other ? We are lovers but not the ones who are owned by each other." 

Dec- 20 - 2015 

[theboookproject]

I can be next to someone and feel their existence. Their full idea of being. I can sense them. Feel their sorrows, their judgments and joys. I can tell if that person is vibrating love or hate. 

[theboookproject]

Go ahead.

Go ahead, correct my english. 

Tell me how far I sound from the way you sound. 

Go ahead and tell me that my smile needs fixing. 

That the dentist should be paid a little more. 

Go ahead, and tell me that I need a man to fuck my vagina. 

That I need to have humans entering the world through my uterus. 

Go ahead, and be the judge of my life’s carnaval.

But make sure you are over there, behind the red velvet lines. 

Make sure to look at me, 

 as the LED lights celebrate my dark circled brown eyes. 

I will walk with a golden man, 

telling you how I am going to be richer than you are. 

I will walk with my brown skin, my dirty terrorist Hijab.

 I will tell the world how funny you are. were. never going to be. 

[theboookproject]

I loved a poet

i loved a poet 

and there he wrote 

few little words of love and war 

I loved a poet 

and there he sang 

few little words of death and sex 

I loved a poet 

and there he was 

kissing my thoughts, 

and making love to my heart.