Day 4

I’m ok
——–

I’m ok. I’m not good but ok. That’s what a friend texted me last night. I know, I’m not good either, but I’m ok. I’m ok means there’s a bit more of this shit I can take, with various levels of morale, before I completely crack, before I lose something. It could be hope, it could be nerves, it could be my mind, it could be any or all of them. But I’m not there yet. I’m ok.
————————————————–

Last night I could not sleep. I kept closing my eyes and hearing warplanes go by. My brother laughs and says it’s the same plane turning around. When I closed my eyes I thought I could hear the rumbling of its engine as it swoop down again. I tensed awaiting the drop of the bomb, the explosion. I closed off my ears, covered them with pillows. I could hear the sound resonating inside my body, making me sick to my stomach. Then I realise that it’s the AC that I have on. I’m still one of the lucky ones.
I’m ok.

————————————————–

Woke up an hour ago. All is well minus one more block of south Beirut.
I have to read the news.
I’ll see you later.