I am sitting in my office, on the ground – we don’t sit on chairs around here.
I am sitting in my office. My freaking office, that took me months to get. It took me months to get my close circle here take my work and believes on children rights seriously. It took me six months to get where I am today.
I am sitting in this office and feeling down. Very. I’ve been talking to my friends in another city telling them that I am moving in to where they are. I don’t think I can live here any longer.
I am tired. I can’t cry with someone here. I can’t speak my mind at all, with someone here.
I was talking to another female blogger living in the liberated part of her city- what she’s facing is the same as I am here.
It’s war and it’s a man’s wold. We women, revolutionary women, are trying our best to exist in such world and it’s exhausting. It’s too much work and battles every now and then and I am tired.
I have lots of work to do and yet I was browsing crochet women wear last night, haha..I mean, I never did that before..well except out of curiosity. But last night I did it with lust.
I want to go shopping, I want to look at the mirror and wear nice stuff. I want to do my hair nicely. I want to wear makeup. I want to go to the movies, I want to spend one month doing nothing but watching anime.
I want to see my family.
My family, on the 6th. of October it would be a whole year since I’ve last seen my family.
I used to nag on my dad, and he used to ignore me. I used to joke with my mom a lot. Go shopping with her. She hates it when I tag along with her on her shopping festivals.
I used to make fun of her diets. She keeps saying she’ll quit smoking and I keep telling her I won’t.
I miss my family. I miss my dad. Who’d let me do whatever – my thoughts here froze upon hearing the sound of MiG flying above of us. The FSA fighters are trying to fire at it but in vain. (Send us real weapons, will you? I’m trying to write a post here without worrying about dying).
I was talking about dad. Now I’ve lost the moment. Damn you, Bashar!
Anyways, I guess I miss normal life. I mean, I am happy here all the time but I guess sometimes I reach the point where I want to explode.
People ask me: “where are you from?” I say I am from Damascus but I am not. My mom is from Homs, but my dad is the son of a Palestinian who lost his home before Syrian independence. Who couldn’t return home due to the foundation of Israel.
Where I am from? Palestine? Syria? Damascus? Homs?
I belong to this revolution that exceeds its national boundaries. I love all revolutions. I love the revolutionaries who understand the meaning of it, its morals, its aspirations and its vision.
I don’t mind living like this, under shelling, no electricity and water, no friends and family. It’s the patriarchal traditions that are preventing my creativity. I have lots of things I want to do and I need to fight harder to make them happen.
I mean it when I said that shelling doesn’t bother me. It scares the hell out of me but I won’t leave because of it.
I won’t leave because of ISIS. I won’t leave because of patriarchy.
But I might leave if I am no longer functioning. So far I think I am.
Not sure why I wrote this post anymore, this airplane made me lose track.
Went to the media center to find out what happened with the airplane: the airplane fired something like cluster bombs but I am waiting for the video or pictures to verify. Lots of people wounded, mostly children. One child lost his arm.
UPDATE Sat 10th. 10:39 AM: one man martyred last night from his injuries.
This morning one man brought the below thing for the media center to take pictures of it. I don’t know what it is, the airplane fired a rocket that’s filled with twenty of these, each one of these carry the bombs that wounded almost 50 people last night.