On Maha

(This is about me (I’m Maha), so it’s fine if you don’t enjoy it.)

At some point I realized that I write as if I’m talking to everyone in the whole world and to absolutely no one but myself at the same time. Maybe this is completely normal, but I do think of myself as a very unique person, you won’t get it, it’s a me thing. And you’re probably thinking: “And so does everyone else”, and I will answer your thoughts by saying: This is not about everyone else, this is about Maha (especially this Maha, who is me, as hinted by the title above).

…

The thing is, I’m fully convinced that I am a genius. I’m not full of myself, but I have been in many rooms in this life, where I was entirely sure that I’m the smartest under the ceilings of said rooms. And yes, this way of thinking might make you sound absolutely insane to people (yourself included!), but there’s beauty and grace in madness. The only downside of it (insanity) is probably that people won’t take you seriously, and you might think: “Who cares what people think?” I do, dear reader, I do. I care what people think and feel about me. Because while I do love myself very much, even I cannot stand being with her all the time. It is really nice to have me around, but that would be selfish, more people should experience Maha, it’s a good show, although we don’t know if it is a comedy or a drama, tune in to find out! (This is a joke; I hope you laughed, but just so you know I only laughed at it once, it is not that funny, so it's fine if you didn't).

I really like myself; I don’t understand why some people think they should keep themselves humble, and humbleness to them is to put themselves down. Why think so little of the person you know most in this life? The person you spend most time with, the one who takes care of YOU. And I truly do not understand how praising yourself can be interpreted as putting down others. Is it that people tend to live too much with themselves to the point that they see their reflection in every matter even if it doesn’t apply to them?

…

This would have been much neater, more aesthetically pleasing, and perhaps less annoying to some, had I disguised it in the shape of a poem, the type of poem that only a woman would write, and only women would read, and get instantly. I can’t imagine what it would be like if I weren’t me, I define myself by what I like and love, I try to embrace my past errors and let go of them. I don’t pretend that I’m a complete new different person who is born again with no mistakes. I don’t shed my skin like a snake. I’m more of a tree, my past selves are the smaller circles inside, and I grow around them. As I reach the final sentence of this... whatever you want to call it, I realize that the best way of defining who Maha (me) is, is the following: I am a tree, that tries to stay green all through the year and every year, as much as she can.

Thank you.