Dear Mr President

Dear Mr President,

I’m writing to you because I’ve been quiet for quite some time now. I’ve been trying to refrain myself from writing to you before because I fairly know you haven’t been given much time to imply any change and that you’ve been trying so hard to parade your busy-ness with the improvement of this country to keep us all placid. I’m very sorry though, but bullshit. What is happening to Egypt right now is bullshit. And I don’t think you realise how hard it is to live your day away knowing that people have actually died, and mothers actually -to this very day- cry their nights away over the constant downfall of hope in this country.
Yes, surprisingly enough, you, Mr President, were our hope. We confided in you, because there was no one else to confide in but you. You let us down. And in this mere moment as I type you this letter on my charged smartphone with pre-paid cellular internet connection in a pitch dark room because of your generous givings of constant power cuts, I am crying out to you that you let me down.
When we were kids, Mr President, teachers would ask “What do you want to be when you grow older?”. The commonest reply would be “The President”. But as we actually gained a few heights above the ground, and as our minds buffed up, we realised that it isn’t that easy as our juvenile minds fooled us to believe. That when you wish to be president, you must be capable of satisfying a whole population, you must be capable of taking up a responsibility knowing that letting your people down isn’t an option. Being a president is a liability and it isn’t anywhere comfy and glorious.
But you, Mr President, stood up and spoke out to a crowd of 80 million people that you are qualified enough to own our trust. When you weren’t. And the majority believed you. They believed your fake promises and your lies. They believed you because you spoke out to them when they were most vulnerable. A very nobel and honourable move, Mr President.

Today, I witness supermarket owners on the road protesting because their goods in refrigerators have to be rubbished because of the frequent power cuts. Yesterday, I witnessed unemployed youth asking for their promised employments. Before that, I witnessed mourners asking for the rights of their murdered children. Before that, I witnessed an economic crisis of, what was once, one of the most economically stable in the world. Before that, I witnessed sectarianism and religious intolerance. Should I go on, Mr President?

I’m just very curious, what more surprises have you got packaged for us? What more have you got sealed underneath your well varnished pseudo-promises. I’m very afraid, to be honest. I’m afraid because you’re sucking out the life in me and in everyone around me! And I’m sorry that I put wasted expectations in you. I’m sorry for trusting you. I’m sorry that a president who is, supposedly, the leader of over 80 million people doesn’t quite value the weight of his words and actions. I’m sorry.

A humiliated citizen


About moesolitary

Mixed up between what I want to be and what I think I want to be. For now, I believe I want to be a writer. I belong between words and book. Thoughts linger as poems. I'm a proud Egyptian.

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