Lately, I’ve had plenty of time to reflect on the reason behind my sadness.
Some might assume it’s about money, or that I’ve set my sights too high — but that’s not it.
I’ve always known that wasn’t the reason, but people tend to misunderstand.

The truth is, sometimes your only burden in life is your family and the environment you were born into.
The source of your sadness, your wounds, your growing trauma — it’s all them.
You try to explain it. They won’t accept it. They won’t listen.
But you know deep down… they are the ones truly responsible.

You try to escape.
But it’s in vain.
You feel cursed — even if you’re not, that’s how it feels.
And if there is a purpose to all this pain… I honestly don’t care.
Whatever it’s meant for — I just want to be happy.

That’s why I write these words.
Because I hope they will remain.
I hope they will mean something one day.

The concept of “family” doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone.
Especially not in the Middle East.
Here, there’s an almost religious reverence toward family.
No matter how wrong they are, people believe their own families are always right.
But that’s simply not true.

Especially for women…
Family can be a source of poison, of pain, of deep wounds.

I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. I’ve listened to the stories of others who’ve lived it too.
And when you add all this pain together — something shifts.
The love you once had for the land you were born in… turns into disappointment.
And that disappointment turns into rage.

Maybe that’s why I want to leave.
It’s not just about running away —
It’s about finding a place where I can be myself.
Where I can finally belong.