My wonderful housemate, Erik, asked me what moves me.
I had literally just woken up, hadn’t even taken my morning piss yet. I said love. People who have love. I explained to him how the other day, I was having an intensely bad day and he texted me about beer and joints in the kitchen and I was psyched. Just being able to share a coupe of hardly intoxicating substances with one of the funniest, kindest and most beautiful people in the world made up for the long, endless stressful day. How Sam, our other housemate had moved mountains to get me a ticket to Burning Man because he knew how I’d been DYING to go. How he’d been helping me in every way he can to stand on my feet.
My mother loves me endlessly, my friends all grow on me like family. I am an only child and they’re all my brothers and sisters. I don’t love one more than the other and I don’t prefer one over the other. Almost everyone I’m friends with means the world to me.
Back to what moves me; or love. Love doesn’t move me, love moves mountains. When I was sick, someone who loved me at the time, tweeted that I needed blood donations and tweeps from all walks of life, full of love, came to save me. When I was in the square for the first time, someone who had never seen me before, has never seen me again, took me by the hand when tear gas was about to hit and showed me exactly where to hide, where to find shelter. When I was having a bad day, wonderful Erik brought beers and made it better. Everything with love has moved me, and all without love is sin.
What most recently moved me is Alex. Alex and I were never super close, but he’s always impressed me. Fluent in over six languages, well- travelled, funny, allergic to gluten (for real, not California- style) and absolutely hilarious. The kid is from Ohio and he can understand way more Arabic than me.
Alex has been prescribed more pain killers than he needs because the American healthcare system is shitty like that and he’s now hooked. With a BA is Islamic Philosophy, fluency in a lot of languages, he might have to drop out of his MA in International Law (for which he borrowed a fortune and a half from corporations) and wallow in a drug problem.
I want to extend my hand, reach out and help him but I don’t know how to. It breaks my heart and that’s the most recent thing that’s moved me. I see this brilliant young man, with endless potential, the brains to move the world- wallowing in an atrocious situation. There he was; feeble, edgy and in dire need for more. This man was once one of the most absolutely brilliant people I have ever met. No wait a minute, he still is, it’s just that he’s eating away his spotless brain and it’s breaking my heart.
I wish I could snap him out of it.
What else moves me? I have sort of lost my passion towards a lot other than human connections. I am not connected to a certain home, a belief or even ideologies. I’m basically disconnected and I’m living my life as it comes. Since I moved to the Bay Area, though, i feel like I’m reconnecting again and I’m excited.