“Sometimes I find myself alone at night with nothing but flashbacks and echoes in my head.”
Ever since I left Syria, I lost a part of me that I know I can never get back.
It was never too emotional, I barely knew Syria, I wasn’t an outgoing person in Syria, but in my dreams I only see myself at my home, there, in my room. And it hurts so much that I can’t talk about it.
I hate explaining it, I hate feeling insecure or incomplete or having no country to call my own, difference is good, but this one surely isn’t.
The pain of war and losing one’s country and primal source of pride can get through your ego, it never leaves, it’s always there, somewhere buried inside you.
I didn’t face what other people faced, I have never seen a dead body, I have never been attacked, I have never been in real contact with anything you see on tv.
But I only felt the sense of having no country to call my own, I only have memories of fear, fear of losing my family, my friends or myself. At a very young age.
I’ve only been embarrassed because of what’s happening, I’ve only dealt and still am dealing with people’s reactions when they know I’m Syrian.
I’m not much of a poet and this isn’t some kind of a message for anyone to feel sorry about us in.
I only think that many people in this world suffered and are suffering from war and maybe one day when they read this maybe they could be able to relate to what’s going on inside my head, and I want them to feel that they are not alone in this.