My heart was too afraid|Fazza sheikh Hamdan|Fazza new English translate poems|Fazza king of Dubai 👑

Hinzugefügt: 2026-06-04

[00:00:00]I have been sitting here for a long time tonight, just staring at this blank space, trying to find the courage to say the things I have been carrying inside my chest for so long. And I don't know why tonight feels different. Maybe it's the way the sky looked a little softer today. Or maybe it's because I finally got tired of holding all of this in and pretending that I'm okay with the distance between us. But whatever the reason is, I need you to stop whatever you're doing right now. I need you to put everything down because what I'm about to say to you is something I have never said out loud before. And I am a little scared honestly because saying this out loud makes it real and real things can hurt. But I think you deserve to hear this more than I deserve to stay comfortable in my silence. I want you to know something first. Before I say anything else, I want you to know that you have no idea what you do to me. You have absolutely no idea how many times I have sat in a quiet room thinking about you. Not in a passing way. Not in the way you think about a song you heard once and forgot, but in the deepest, most aching way. The way you think about something that has become a part of who you are. The way you think about something that has quietly without any announcement made itself at home inside you. That is what you have done to me.

[00:01:27]And I have been too afraid to say it until tonight. I remember the first time I truly felt your presence. Not just as someone out there, but as someone real, someone whose heart I could somehow feel even through all the distance and all the silence between us. I don't know how to explain it without sounding like I've lost my mind. But there are moments when I am sitting somewhere alone, maybe late at night when the world has gone quiet and I can feel something. This warmth that doesn't come from anywhere in the room. It just exists. And somehow I know it belongs to you. I know it comes from the fact that you are out there somewhere living your life, breathing your air, carrying your beautiful heart around in that chest of yours. And just the thought of that, just the thought that you exist does something to me that I still haven't found the right words for. And I need you to stay with me right now because I'm getting to the part that scares me the most. I'm getting to the part I have rehearsed a hundred times in my head and always stopped before the ending because the ending requires something from me that I wasn't sure I was ready to give. But tonight I'm going to try. Tonight I'm going to reach into the deepest part of myself and pull out what's been living there quietly and patiently waiting for this exact moment. There were nights I spent just wondering about you. Not about what you look like, not about the surface things, but about the real you.

[00:03:03]The you that exists when no one is watching. The you that sits by a window sometimes and just thinks. The you that has a laugh that probably comes out before you even mean for it to. The you that has been hurt before and still chose to stay soft. Still chose to keep your heart open even when everything around you was trying to convince you to close it. I thought about that version of you. so many times. The private version, the quiet version, the version you don't show everyone. And I felt something so tender for that person.

[00:03:38]Something I didn't have a name for for a long time. But I think I know what it is now. I think I've always known. I just wasn't ready to call it what it is. Can I tell you something that I've never told anyone? On the nights when everything inside me feels too heavy.

[00:03:55]When the weight of everything I carry gets to be more than I can hold on my own, you are the thought that finds me.

[00:04:02]Not a grand thought, not a dramatic one, just a quiet one, just a simple thought of you, of your realness, of the fact that you are somewhere out there under the same sky. And somehow that thought does what nothing else can do. It settles something in me. It makes the heaviness a little more bearable. And I used to feel strange about that. I used to wonder why you, why the thought of someone I haven't held, why the thought of someone I can't reach across and touch would be the thing that brings me back to myself. But I stopped questioning it because some things don't need explaining. Some things just are and you just are. To me, something that matters more than I have the language to describe. I want to paint you a picture of something. I want you to imagine me on an ordinary evening. Nothing special about the day. Just one of those slow evenings where time feels thick and quiet. I am sitting somewhere, maybe on a balcony, maybe near a window, and the light outside is doing that thing it does when the sun is almost gone, but hasn't quite left yet. That golden in between light that makes everything look like it's glowing from the inside. And in that moment, in that quiet, beautiful moment, the thought of you walks in like it owns the place. Not loudly, not urgently, just gently. The way a familiar thing returns. And I sit there in that light thinking about your eyes.

[00:05:33]Not because I know them perfectly, but because I have imagined them so many times that they feel like mine to think about. I think about what they look like when you're really happy. Not the polite kind of happy, but the real kind. The kind that takes over your whole face before you can stop it. I think about what they look like when you're trying not to cry. That particular kind of bravery that lives in the eyes of someone who has learned to carry their softness quietly. And I feel something sitting in that light thinking about you that I can only describe as love. even if it's a love that doesn't fit inside any of the boxes we were taught love is supposed to fit in. Please don't go anywhere. I know some of this might feel like more than you expected when you started listening. I know some of this might feel big and I understand if that's overwhelming, but I need you to stay because I haven't even gotten to the thing that keeps me up at night. I haven't even gotten to the part that I have been circling around for so long.

[00:06:40]The part that sits right at the center of everything I feel. And I promise you, it's worth staying for. I promise you that what I'm about to say next is something you deserve to hear. Do you know what it feels like to miss someone you've never fully had? I don't mean that in a sad way. I mean it in the most honest, most real way I can offer. There is a specific kind of longing that I carry for you. And it's not desperate.

[00:07:08]It's not needy. It's actually one of the most peaceful feelings I have ever known. Which is strange because longing is not usually peaceful. But the longing I have for you feels like standing at the edge of something beautiful and knowing that one day you will walk into it fully. It feels like a promise I made to myself about you before I even knew what I was promising. It feels like something inevitable, like something the universe has already signed off on and is just waiting for the right moment to deliver. I think about the conversations we haven't had yet. I think about that a lot actually. The long ones, the ones that start about something small and then somehow find their way to everything. the ones where we are supposed to stop talking hours ago but neither of us can quite bring ourselves to end it because what we are saying to each other is too important too alive to interrupt. I think about the silences we would share too because I believe in the silences between two people just as much as I believe in the words maybe more because a comfortable silence is one of the rarest and most precious things two people can have together. And when I imagine us together, I always imagine a silence so comfortable that it feels like music. I imagine us needing nothing, just the simple fact of being near each other. Just that, just the warm reality of existing in the same space. And I get a feeling in my chest thinking about it that I can only describe as longing mixed with something that feels dangerously close to certainty. I want to be honest with you about something else. something that I usually keep very private. I have been afraid of my own feelings for you. Not of you, never of you, but of the size of what I feel because there is something about what lives in my chest when I think of you that is larger than what I'm used to, larger than what I know how to manage or explain or fit into normal language. And large feelings have a way of making you feel exposed in ways that are not always comfortable. But I made a decision tonight. I decided that the discomfort of staying silent is greater than the discomfort of being honest. I decided that you deserve my honesty more than I deserve my comfort. And so here I am uncomfortable and honest and feeling everything I usually try to manage alone. And it feels terrifying. And it also feels like the most right thing I have done in a long time. I want you to think about something with me. I want you to think about all the invisible moments that led you here to this exact moment sitting or standing or lying somewhere listening to these words.

[00:09:59]Think about all the small choices, all the little turns. All the moments where you went left instead of right, where you stayed when you could have left.

[00:10:09]Where you chose to open something when everything in you wanted to stay closed.

[00:10:15]Think about how many thousands of tiny invisible things had to happen in exactly the right sequence to bring you to this moment. To bring you to the place where your ears are hearing my voice and your heart is doing whatever it's doing right now. That is not an accident. I don't believe I don't believe it is. I believe in the intentionality of moments like this one.

[00:10:38]I believe that something larger than either of us understands what it is doing when it orchestrates the crossing of two lives, even in a way as quiet and invisible as this. And I have to tell you something about the way I see you because I think it's different from how you might be used to being seen. And I think it matters. I think the way someone sees you matters enormously. I think it shapes things. I think it changes things. I don't see you as a fan. I want to be clear about that. I know that is the word that gets used and I know it serves a practical purpose.

[00:11:15]But when I think about you, when I actually let myself feel what I feel toward the person out there listening to me with their full heart, with their real attention, with the kind of openness that most people don't give anyone, the word fan doesn't even begin to describe what I see. What I see is a person, a full complex, feeling, breathing, hoping, hurting, loving, laughing, surviving, beautiful person.

[00:11:41]What I see is someone who chose to let my words, my voice, my presence means something to them. And there is no greater gift anyone can give another person than that. There is nothing more generous than choosing to let someone matter to you. And you have done that for me. And I feel that. I feel it in a place that nothing else reaches. And I hope you know what I'm trying to say.

[00:12:06]Even when my words fall a little short of what I mean, I keep coming back to this image of you when you were younger.

[00:12:13]I don't know why. I can't explain it.

[00:12:15]But I have this feeling, this quiet and gentle feeling that the younger version of you had big dreams. The kind of dreams that feel embarrassing to say out loud because they are so big they feel impossible. I think you had a version of the life you wanted that was vivid and detailed and beautiful. And I think somewhere along the way some of that got quieter as it does for all of us as life has a way of hushing the loudest parts of our dreams. And I want you to know that I think about that version of you too. I think about the girl who had those dreams and I want to say to her across all the distance and all the time that she was right to dream that big.

[00:12:59]That the life she imagined for herself was not ridiculous. That she was not wrong for wanting so much. That the wanting was a sign of how alive she was, not a sign of how foolish she was. I want to reach back and tell her that.

[00:13:13]And I want to tell you now that you are still her. Somewhere inside you, she is still there and she is still right. And it is still not too late for anything she was dreaming about. There is something I have never told anyone that I am going to tell you right now. And I am telling you because tonight something in me broke open. Not in a painful way, in a releasing way. Like a window that was stuck and finally came loose. And now all this air is coming in. And all these things I kept inside are coming out. and I can't stop them even if I wanted to. The truth is that there are versions of love I have felt toward you that I did not have permission to feel.

[00:13:56]Or at least that's what I told myself because permission is a strange thing when it comes to feelings. Feelings don't wait for permission. They simply arrive. They move in and they rearrange the furniture and they make themselves at home. And there is very little you can do about it except decide whether to acknowledge them or keep pretending the furniture was always like that. I stop pretending tonight. Tonight I am acknowledging that the furniture has been moved. Tonight I am standing in the middle of what was rearranged and I am saying yes this is different now. This is not what it was before. This is something I feel in a way that requires a different kind of honesty than I have offered before. I want you to feel something right now. If you can, I want you to feel for just a moment the way I feel when I think about your happiness.

[00:14:51]Not your happiness in relation to me.

[00:14:53]Just your happiness in general. Your happiness as its own sacred thing. the way your face probably looks when you are genuinely deeply quietly happy. Not performing happiness, but actually living inside it. I want you to feel the warmth that moves through my whole chest when I imagine you like that. I want you to feel that what I have for you is not just romantic in the way that songs are romantic, but in the way that real life is romantic. In the way that wishing for someone's good night's sleep is romantic. In the way that hoping someone had enough water today is romantic. In the way that wanting someone to find what they are looking for, even if I never get to be part of how they find it, is one of the purest forms of love I know. That is what I have for you. That completely selfless, completely genuine, completely unconditional version of wanting the best for someone. And it lives in me like a permanent thing, like something that was installed and cannot be uninstalled. Are you still here with me? I hope you are. I hope you can feel that I am not performing any of this. I hope you can feel the difference between words that are arranged to sound a certain way and words that are being pulled out of someone against their own comfort because that is what this is.

[00:16:17]This is not arranged. This is extracted.

[00:16:20]This is the honest truth of what lives in me when it comes to you. Unpolished and unperformance ready and a little too real maybe, but yours completely yours as a gift that I am giving tonight because you deserve it and because I can no longer justify keeping it. I think about what it would feel like to know you fully. Not the version of you that exists in the places where everyone can see, but the version that only comes out in the right conditions. The way certain flowers only bloom in specific temperatures. The private version, the honest version, the version that has fears and dreams and contradictions and beautiful inconsistencies. I want to know what makes you feel most like yourself. I want to know what you think about in the last few minutes before you fall asleep when your mind is finally quiet enough to say what it really wants to say. I want to know what kind of sad you feel when you are sad. Whether it's the quiet kind that sits behind your eyes or the heavier kind that lives in your whole body. I want to know what you love without any self-consciousness.

[00:17:31]What you love the way children love things completely and without any reason. Just because your heart points itself in that direction and you follow it. I want to know all of that. And the wanting is so clear and so steady and so unafraid that it surprises me every time I sit with it. Let me tell you about a particular kind of night. The kind that comes maybe once a season when the air is a specific temperature and the world feels strangely still and something about the dark feels softer than usual, like the night itself is in a gentle mood. On those kinds of nights, something opens up in me that is usually more carefully guarded. something loosens. And on those nights without fail, without exception, the thought that comes to me most powerfully is you.

[00:18:20]Not a memory, not a fantasy, not a story I've constructed, just a pure and simple thought of you, just you as a real existing person somewhere in the world.

[00:18:31]And the feeling that comes with that thought is something I could live inside forever and never want to leave. It is warmth and it is ache and it is gratitude and it is longing and it is something else beneath all of those that doesn't have a name yet. But I am convinced it is the most important feeling I have ever felt. More important than any of the things I have been celebrated for, more important than anything I have built or created or achieved. This feeling, this nameless, impossible, beautiful feeling is the thing I would choose if someone told me I could only keep one thing. I need you to understand something about the way you have changed me because this is the part I think matters most. This is the part I want you to carry with you after tonight. You changed me without knowing you were doing it. He changed me slowly, the way water changes stone. Not dramatically, not with announcement, but consistently and persistently, and in a direction that made me better, that made me softer in the right places and stronger in the places that needed strength. The parts of me that are most worth keeping, the parts that even I am proud of on the days I don't feel proud of anything, those parts grew in the direction of you. They were shaped by the simple knowledge of your existence.

[00:19:56]By the fact that someone like you was out there and that who I was needed to be worthy of being near something that real, something that good. I used to be more afraid than I am now. Afraid of feeling too much. Afraid of wanting things I wasn't sure I was allowed to want. Afraid of the size of my own heart and what it was trying to tell me. And I don't know exactly when it happened, but somewhere in the time that I have been carrying this feeling for you, the fear got smaller. Not because the feeling got smaller. The feeling only ever got larger, but because I started to understand that the fear and the love can exist at the same time. That you don't have to get rid of one to make room for the others. That you can be terrified and still choose to feel everything. that you can stand in the middle of the most enormous feeling you have ever had and not run from it. That you can let it wash over you and through you and come out the other side more yourself than you went in. You taught me that without saying a word, without knowing you were teaching me anything.

[00:21:05]You just existed and felt real and I watched myself become braver. I want to say your name right now. I wish I knew it. I wish I could say it with the weight I would put behind it because your name deserves to be said with weight. Deserves to be said with the fullness of what it represents, which is a whole person, a whole life, a whole world of experiences and feelings and memories that no one else has lived but you. Your name is a door to everything you are. And I wish I could knock on it properly. So instead, I will say this.

[00:21:39]Whoever you are, whatever your name is, whatever it sounds like in your own voice, I hope someone says it today with the softness it deserves. I hope someone who loves you says it like it matters.

[00:21:51]And if no one does, then hear it in my voice tonight. Hear me say it with everything I have, with all the warmth I can push through these words. Because to me, your name, whatever it is, is one of the most important words in the world.

[00:22:07]Do you know the thing about you that I find hardest to explain? It's the courage you carry. I know you might not see it in yourself because the things we carry most naturally feel invisible to us. But from where I stand, I can see it so clearly it almost takes my breath away. The courage to feel things deeply in a world that keeps telling you to harden up. The courage to care, really care, openly and without pretending you don't. In a world where caring has somehow been made to seem naive, the courage to still believe in things, in love, and in connection, and in the possibility that people can be good to each other, after everything you have been through, after all the times that belief has cost you something, that kind of courage is not common. That kind of courage is extraordinary. And I see it in you. I see it so clearly and I want you to know I have so much respect for it, so much tenderness for the person who keeps choosing softness as an act of bravery. I think about holding your hand sometimes. Not in an overwhelming way, just in a quiet way. In the way you think about simple comforts, the way you think about a cup of tea when you're cold or a familiar song when you're sad.

[00:23:24]I think about what it would feel like to have your hand in mine. the weight of it, the warmth of it, the way it would feel like an answer to a question I didn't know I was asking. I think about what I would say in that moment, or if I would say anything at all, or if maybe we would both just be quiet together.

[00:23:44]And the quiet would say everything that words would only make smaller. I think about that, and I feel something so tender it almost feels fragile, like if I think about it too hard, it will dissolve. So, I hold it carefully. The way you hold something, you're afraid to break. I have so much more to say. I want you to know that. I want you to know that these words, as long as they are, are only the surface of what I have inside. Only the outermost layer of a feeling that goes down and down and down into depths. I'm still discovering every time I let myself look, there is so much more underneath this. There are layers of tenderness I haven't named yet.

[00:24:26]Layers of longing that go back further than I can see. Layers of gratitude for the simple fact of you that I could spend my whole life trying to articulate and still not do it justice. But I want to try. I want to keep trying. I want to keep finding new ways to say what you mean to me because you deserve to hear it in every language I am capable of speaking. And can I be honest about something that feels vulnerable to admit? There are moments when I wonder if you feel any of this moments when I wonder if somewhere in you in that quiet part of you that knows things before your mind has caught up with them. There is some echo of what I feel, some answering warmth, some recognition. I don't ask you to confirm it. I don't need you to say anything. I don't need anything from you that you don't already have to give. But I wonder. I let myself wonder because wondering is one of the most human things there is. And I am trying to be very human tonight. I am trying to let you see me being very human, uncertain and hoping and feeling too much and not apologizing for any of it. I want you to take something with you after tonight. I want you to take the knowledge that somewhere in the world someone thinks of you in the quiet hours. Someone carries the thought of you with a gentleness that borders on sacred. Someone sees you not as a version of yourself that you perform for the world, but as the full and real and complicated and beautiful person that you actually are and loves that person, that actual real person with a kind of love that doesn't ask for anything in return. That doesn't need to be acknowledged or reciprocated or even fully understood. That simply exists.

[00:26:16]steady and warm and completely yours. I want you to feel less alone tonight.

[00:26:21]That is the deepest wish underneath everything I have said. Not because I think you are always alone. Not because I assume anything about your life, but because I know that the specific kind of aloneeness I am talking about the feeling of not being fully seen, of people loving the performance of you rather than the reality of you, of carrying parts of yourself that nobody has ever asked to hold. That specific aloneeness is something I understand and it is something I want to reach into you and pull out tonight and say, "Give that to me. Let me hold that for you. You don't have to carry that alone anymore.

[00:27:01]Not tonight. Not while I'm talking to you. Not while my words are in your ears and my feelings are finding their way toward your heart. There is something happening right now between the two of us that I don't want to name too loudly because naming things too loudly sometimes frightens them away. But you can feel it, can't you? You can feel that this is different from ordinary words. You can feel that something real is moving through this. Something alive, something that didn't exist before tonight in quite this form and will not exist again in exactly this way. This moment right now is singular. It belongs only to the two of us. And I want you to feel the sacredness of that. I want you to feel how rare it is for two people to be dishonest with each other, this unguarded, this willing to sit in the enormous feeling without turning away from it. I am not going to tell you how this ends. I am not going to wrap this up neatly with a bow and hand it to you completed because it is not completed because what I feel is not a finished thing. It is an ongoing thing. It is a living, breathing, growing thing. And to give it an ending would be to lie about its nature. What I have for you doesn't end. It doesn't arrive at a conclusion and then settle into quietness. It continues. It continues past tonight and past this conversation and past every moment when I cannot say it out loud. It continues in the quiet rooms and the golden evenings and the nights with specific kinds of air and the moments when my mind goes to the place it always goes when it's most honest with itself.

[00:28:44]It continues there. It continues always.

[00:28:47]So I will leave you not with an ending but with a question. Not a question you need to answer. Not a question I expect anything from. Just a question to sit with the way you sit with a feeling you're not quite ready to let go of yet.

[00:29:02]The question is this. When you lie down tonight, when the world has gone quiet and it is just you and your own honest mind in the dark, what do you feel? Not what do you think? Not what do you tell yourself? Not what makes sense or what is practical or what fits inside the life you have built. But what do you feel in the deepest and most unmanaged part of you? What is living there? What has always been living there? What is trying right now to say something that you have been almost ready to hear for a very long time?