I chose black as a color for my life and wore misery in mourning for those days when my spear in my soft body became relentless and merciless.
I am in the middle of my fourth decade. I have left the stage of youth and the shadow of aging has come to haunt me. My strength is beginning to weaken and my resolve is fading from successive refractions. My life since childhood has been hell. And those days when I waited to smile at me threw me violently from an abyss to a more severe one than a pitcher until it crashed completely.
At the age of 18, I had to leave the house because life with my family was unbearable.
My problem was not as physical as my peers. I did not ask my father for money or purposes, but my problem was that I wanted freedom.
My father was an authoritarian man who loosened the shadow of his dictatorship over the house and wanted everything to go according to what he imagined in his mind.
For me, and until the age of 16, everything was acceptable, and even more, I saw my father as a boisterous man.
It was a source of pride and prestige for me, but after the sixteenth I started looking for something of independence. I wanted to find space in my land where I was simpler and simpler in my way, but I did not find it because of its extreme rigidity.
His brilliance faded and in my eyes he became pale, so I took him with him a thousand times a day because of the charged conflicts.
A lot of verbal talk in the morning is a burden to the soul and the body.
A man like my father If you want to live in his home, you have to enter in the time he determines, and eat your meals when authorized, you have to obey him and let him take you to where he wants.
Is it not said to the soldiers if the commander ordered you to carry out his orders first, and then ask him and ask him why if you like after ..?
For my father, no.
You have to implement without inquiry ..!
I searched hard for freedom but to no avail. The more I was under 18, the more the house was in my eyes and the more I grew darker, the more I finally had to go back to the house and phobia from the ringing of the phone, which reminded me of my parents' calls.
where are you ? Where are you going ? Come home quickly
You are late, who accompanied?
And do not think that his questions were formulated in such a way, only by mutual respect between us gentlemen in this way to alleviate it.
At the age of eighteen, he had reached the torrent, and a lot of points poured out of the cup of Sabri and I carried my bags and left forever.
But until now ..? I did not know where I would keep my face and all I was thinking about was leaving home.
As the sidewalks hugged me, and by the way, they embrace everyone in equal measure and kill everyone equally.
The streets are not as thinly warm as depicted in film movies, but cold contrasts are colder and more brutal.
My first week outside the house was one of the most horrible weeks I have ever experienced.
I saw the streets at night, as I had never seen them before, with its deadly mark, its bastards, its thieves, its criminals, its sexiest prostitutes.
I could not sleep at night for fear of theft or assault, and I spent the whole night pacing the streets in fear of the most fearful.
My third night was the worst. It was in late January. It was very cold this month, and you are not secretly hiding, gentlemen. Unfortunately, I only wore a T-shirt.
In the middle of the streets covered with rain, and the trees that were lined up, I was walking, swaying, and the strong wind was blowing me right and left like a doll.
The cold penetrated my body, and the blue of the skin became like a piece of ice. My sorrows did not stop there. The rain rose, the sky cried as it never cried, and the cold rain swept over me.
Everything was painful, I felt my body churning coldly as if someone were hurting me with shards of glass.
My nose was almost exploding and my teeth did not stop from arresting me, my God would die in the cold ..! I did not know where the road was and I sat down in the shed of a house.
My sessions were very humiliating, and often when we were in the position of the weak and weak, our body involuntarily took those movements that were in line with our senses.
I was like a broken card in the wind, my head was completely submerged, and suddenly I found a hand reaching out to me and taking my medicine.
I was shocked, this event was a tragedy for myself, I am not a beggar, and I never imagined that I would live in such a situation.
The man left the dirham next to me and then left. I grabbed her by the hand, trembling and I began to look at her with her eyes filled with sorrow and pain.
Continued.......
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