To The Living Ones

Uncompleted stories and unfinished poems, my notebook is open on a page full of ideas and scratch. It’s been a long time since I’ve grabbed a pen but I have decided to start writing again, not because I feel pity for all what I have never had the courage to complete but for a reason that is greater than my sense of guilt; I’m done playing hide and seek, it is the end of the game!

I believe in the power of two things; love and death. They’re both powerful enough to change a person, his beliefs and his actions. When in love, I got inspired and my words run smoothly along my emotions. I would write thousands of pages spellbound by my own feelings.

Little did I know that one day I would open my laptop, start a new page and run my fingers on the cold dusty keyboard? My fear is translating through my tap on the buttons and boldly reflecting on the white screen. It’s scary but I’m still in control, and I would control myself until I finish this piece,

Because today I’m diagnosed with the most famous disease and this is a story that deserves to be told.

13 March 2020: 9 cases

7:45 pm: “Coronavirus School closing” was the title on every national news headline and in every exchanged sentence.

7:50 pm: Different reactions, our dorm got swayed between those who happily perceive the short term joy of stopping their studies and the concern of others whose lives depend on it.

A system is being shut down until an unknown date.

8:00 pm: Terror portrayed in a wave of panic-buying.

8:10 pm: We were told to leave the dorm in the very next day.

14 March 2020: 17 cases

7:30 am: My roommate is leaving and I still have time to sleep but I can’t.

8:00 am: My eyes are fixed on the roof and my head is heavy with so many thoughts, the future just proved it again “we cannot predict it”

4:00 pm: “I can’t believe that I’m on the train going home.”

10:30 pm: Running from the unknown to the unknown!

14 April 2020: 1838 cases

Under their mocking jokes, their buzzes and their sneers, she climbed right out of the bottomless pit.

They underestimated her will and never believed in her potency, but little by little she grew her  shadow devouring their greed.

Under their shining lights she liked the sudden fame; she succeeded and turned the scales.


One month ago, my life was stable, my wishes were shallow and my dreams were big. It’s funny how in that period of time I’d forget to call my family, get envious over clothes I don’t have, refuse a going out with my friends because I want to stay inside, or even get mad because a café doesn’t have my favorite flavor crepe.

It’s also funny how I have worked hard on my studies for fifteen years, planned and planned then planned for every day and for every week, deprived myself of sleep for times, and suppressed my desire for fun and rest, only because I believed in a future I could create with diligence and perseverance. My heart pains me to sum these years in a few words, and now I can’t even mourn them in my final weeks.

I don’t want to have regrets and this letter isn’t about a dying girl, rather I wrote it for the living ones who have the privilege of time.

In this period, the sky might not be blue and the shining sun might not be warm. But this crisis is going to end and things are going to be okay again.

And then, it’s okay not to be ambitious, it’s okay to fall behind; it’s okay to get rest.

It’s okay to throw your phone and everything holding you away, because you can simply take a break.

Eating well and sleeping well are such common things that we forget how crucial they are.

Make a coffee and hold a book, or turn on the music and dance like a crazy person. Cry with the saddest movie or laugh over a funny vlog. Cook and mess everything then order your favorite food, or just go out and discover a new restaurant.

When this is over, may the pain be a lesson for everyone and may you never take the things you have for granted again.

To the living ones, take care of yourself and stay home until the darkness fades and the sun shines.

Chaibi Khadija