Crime Project

I have a friend who was my classmate during high school. Then we separated and the world threw us on our paths. Then we returned years later to meet. It became his habit whenever he met me to complain. It became my habit to listen.. and look at His pale face and his lips are always pursed as if he was on revenge... and his complaint is always the same... it does not change... even his tone... even his words that he says while grinding his molars... I want to live like the happy, rich people live... Don’t tell me that most The rich are not happy.. Do not try to philosophize poverty for me.. and distort wealth for me.. I know what you are saying, oh writers, I want to be rich.. and I am not satisfied at all with myself.. and with my current situation.. I want money.. money.. I want I have a car and an apartment that has a stove, a refrigerator, a pickup truck, and a recorder. I want to live in a building that has an elevator. And I have at least five new suits. I want to go to the cinema and sit in a corner, not a hall. I want to enter cabarets and bars. I want to know what is inside this place. The boxes that I read about until my head was filled with words.. I want to see with my eyes and hear with my body.. I want to live.. I live.. I live in deprivation.. Don’t tell me that God wants this.. God does not want that.. God wants me to live and He created me so that I can live and move. And I feel, touch, and sense every need.. I have disbelieved in ideals.. I have disbelieved in morals.. virtues and principles.. They are all empty words that have no meaning to me.. The only truth I know is that I am poor.. I do not have an abandoned acre or a trap cow.. All my possessions are What I am.. Only thirty pounds.. A small, despicable employee.. My father is dead and my mother and three brothers share this amount with me.. And all of them are happy because they do not feel.. As for me, I always feel like I am dead.. I feel like I am wishing for things that I cannot have. And I feel in moments that I am on the verge of becoming a murderer, a thief, a thug, a fraudster, or a drug smuggler... There is a bitterness in my throat that can only be extinguished by sick imaginations... Do not tell me to look for another job or work in trade... Where is the time for all this and my work is at the airport? I live in Shubra, and I leave every day at seven in the morning and return at five in the afternoon, exhausted... tired... not fit for anything... Don't tell me there are millions like you who are less happy than you... this is true... I know this, but they were created like this... their feeling. So.. but I am something else.. and my feeling is something else.. and what is important is I.. me.. and he has a habit of repeating I.. me.. several times while absent-mindedly.. he looks at me with pursed lips as if he is holding me accountable.. as if I am responsible for His torment...then he goes on as he was and I go on as I am...but his ghost keeps haunting me...his pursed lips...and his harsh tones...and his words that he says in bitterness and presses between his teeth time after time...I...I...yes, here All the torment.. in this word.. I.. His torment is not in his circumstances, his poverty, and his small income.. Rather, his torment is in himself.. There are millions of poor people who live like him and less than him and do not feel these feelings.. His torment is in the elements of his personality that burn next to him. Some of them and each one ignites the other... an intense desire without reason... lust without control... dreams without means, urgent wishes, a futile will... sensitive feelings, a narrow horizon... suspicious eagerness... and exhausting patience... all of which collide in the end and turn into causes of misery. And hatred... never turns into action and effectiveness... And with his thin frame and pale, stoic face, he always looks like a crime project... And I do not believe that man is a slave to circumstances, that he is a guide and has no choice at all... The conditions of poverty, ignorance, disease, and bad upbringing do not necessitate failure in my view. Rather, sometimes it leads to genius, goodness, and genius... because the decisive factor is always the internal circumstance... the psychological circumstance... and the most dangerous circumstance of the crime is the criminal himself... and the most dangerous motives for the crime are the criminal himself... it is the decisive moment in which his personality reaches the boiling point. Its elements fizzle out to make it lose its correctness. This internal process hidden in our souls: intention, feeling, emotion, perception, hesitation, determination, and impulsiveness, is the key to our destiny. I have always asked myself: Can a person control this process? Can my friend... He controls his anger... he whispers and leads his revolution... he controls his emotions... and he rationalizes his hatred... and envy. I believe that he can.. I believe that the rope of freedom is stretched in our souls and that we can always seek refuge in it. The hand of God always extends this rope to us, but we do not see it. Deep within us is a light energy from which we can look and call for help. We are not dark closed rooms that contain... On the circumstances. It reflects the influences of the environment only, without freedom, without action, and without will. We are not pits in which circumstances, poverty, ignorance, disease, and blocked doors accumulate. There is always freedom at the bottom of the problem. There is the hand of God and His mercy. We are not like straw straws carried by the waves and tossed about by the current. But we can walk against the wind... and swim against the current... and against unfavorable circumstances sometimes. The tree, which is a degenerate type of life, grows upwards against earthly gravity, and the sap flows upwards against earthly gravity, against the laws of fluids and atmospheric pressure, and against physical conditions, and it stands solid and lofty in the face of the wind. Do not bow to nature.. It is a helpless and blind tree planted in the ground and bound by its roots.. So what about man, the master of all living beings.. He has two legs with which he runs.. and eyes with which he sees.. a mind to think with.. and a heart to feel.. I never believe it. The myth of inevitable fate... and the circumstances that inflict humiliation and poverty upon people... so they are left with nothing but complaints and crime... and cursing... there is always a solution... there is a way out... as long as there is faith and the problem is not the circumstances... circumstances are similar in one family... Despite this, the brothers part ways in fate...one commits suicide...and the other commits murder. The third... becomes addicted... and the fourth is addicted to drugs... The problem is the human being... The human being is the decisive circumstance... and the important factor in life... and when all doors are closed in front of him, there remains an open door within him... it is the door open to divine mercy... and when He screams out of despair... because he closed this door with his hand as well... and turned his back to his Lord and Creator... and I believe that my friend can do something... he can stop attempting a crime and start embarking on another successful work... Who A book about love and life by Mustafa Mahmoud