Writer: Menna Kalboush
Editor: Abdallah Sobhi
It was like hiding from the storm in a house without a roof.
Wherever I step, it follows.
It was like running in a circle, a never-ending road, that I was trapped in every direction. No matter how much I tried to escape and hide in the dark, it invaded my darkness with glowing lights.
It was like throwing their dirty phrases on a spotless page. The blood was burning in my veins while they were spitting their venom without mercy.
There was always a very thin line between secrets and publicity, a very weak barrier that was penetrated by meaningless words.
More than once, I have fought to maintain my privacy, but it was always violated by their often harsh and vulgar opinions.
That was enough to make me keep their reactions in mind with every step I take.
I feel indignant, being born in a judgemental society, among people whose time is always wasted in pointless arguments.
They simply throw their shells, unconcerned with the devastation they cause.
What a shame that we’ve been faking our reality in order to satisfy people and keep up with whatever is trending on social media!
It’s unbearably tiring; being forced to bury your reality underneath other people’s desires to turn you into someone else.
But the truth that we’ve all gone blind to see is that “who we are” has always been and will always be enough.
Opening my eyes to that truth was the refuge that kept me unchained. When I simply valued myself, when I turned off the volume whenever they spoke about me, when I found a way to block them, I finally did it; I freed myself.
