~ A conversation over a cup of wine .

When we met he was younger than me. I don't remember his age. I think he was 27 years old. I was a middle aged woman. I had already celebrated my 35 birthday anniversary. I had a job, a place to call home, a dog and two cats. He insisted on seeing me for reasons I ignore _ like all the men I met in my life_ he just said "There's something about you that I can't put into words and your smile is charming". I have heard those words for millions of times in my life that they no longer seduced me. I always craved some company . I accepted to see him because that day , after work , I needed to drink my usual cup of red wine with someone ..

I remember him because he was so pessimistic _ and I have always hated negativity. I found him very young and trying to figure out a meaning to his existence.

We were talking about everything and nothing when he said that the human race was a victim. I asked him " A victim of what? Of whom? " . He looked down at his shoes collecting words and then burst at my face " We are victims of this life. Victims of destiny! Victims of our genes. Victims of our society. " . I smiled and answered sarcastically" By victim you mean : responsible for our lives, Mature enough to handle our own problems, Strong enough to keep holding on, old enough to know what's best for us? " . My words made him feel irritated. He avoided looking to me in the eyes; gazing to his shoes he was trying to find something to say in order to rebel against me. After a while he lifted his head and said with a furious voice " Maybe being a victim is better than being guilty. And actually I don't know how you did it. Your life is easy. Everything is perfect and nothing stopped you from making your dreams come true .You have got everything to be happy and not all of us are as much lucky as you are. " . I stayed quiet for some seconds, searching into my fogged brain for some wise words to say. I was not mad at him. I felt more empathetic and more caring towards him. I said with a calm voice " I do not have a perfect life. I did not have a wonderful childhood and my adulthood is not marvelous. Some days are good, others are not. Some days are victories, others are just lost battles. Some mornings I wake up feeling like a new born ready to conquer the world, and other mornings I spend half an hour in my bed watching the ceiling and convincing myself to get up. I can go from laughs to tears _ and I find it embarrassing _ but I learnt to control it. I can smile while deep inside I feel more fragile than a butterfly. I know that something about my inner self is broken, I know that a part of me is more damaged than an old disk from the 60s, but I will never ask someone to fix me. Whining is easy, losing all faith. is easy, complaining about life is easy.. but it is not fruitful. It is useless and repulsive. We are all humans and behind our faces there are many stories untold and millions of words unspoken that we will carry to the grave. All I want to say is that we are not victims, we are doers. We are not guilty of being alive nor of being humans, we are rather reasonable creatures having experiences. Guilt is just another demon to kill. Life will pass you by if you keep seeing it that way. " . I know that my sentences had an impact on him. I could see it on his figure because his face expressions got more relaxed. He examined my face with his sad eyes and then mumbled " Maybe you are right.. I think that I am lost in the middle of this messy life. " . I put my hand on his hand and said with a soft voice " No my dear. You are just finding your way out of it. You are creating your own destiny ".

We did not talk much after that day. We did not keep in touch. I had my life and my pets to take care of and he was still young as a seed that need to be planted and watered regularly and I did not have time for that .I don't know where he is now or what he became. It was the only time I saw him.

                                                                   By Syrine Moussa