I may not be that old but time taught me a lot of things. Time has taught me it's importance. Time has taught me how much things in life are worth. Time has also taught me that no matter how old you are, you will always have duties. Most importantly time has taught me how much it's worth. Some people might say I am too mature for my age, others think I am immature. I don't care about others' opinions, I care about my opinion of myself and my parents' opinion of me.
Right now I am writing this story, not a love story that's for sure but a story of how I got to this point in life in my journal or diary. Let's imagine life as a mountain, a rocky mountain to be precise. On your way up the mountain, you slip and slide, you fall and tremble, you eventually get hurt. That's the way life is, a challenge that will always be incomplete no matter how hard you try to complete it. It was really hard getting to the top of my rocky mountain called life, but it was certainly worth the hike!
It's hard living in an Arab society. I mean not everywhere, but in some places it's a little difficult to blend in with everybody. Your family name matters, your class in society matters, where your parents are from matters, and last but not least the number of siblings you have matters. I really don't like my last point because sometimes, even when you are an only child, your parents won't pamper you as much as others think they will or do.
Growing up with the hatred of my cousins wasn't nice so I usually didn't go to my grandparents' house unless there was a special occasion that I had to attend. I usually stayed at home on Thursdays, or right now, on Fridays. I spent time with my mom or stayed at home reading books or watching TV or maybe played around with my brother. I didn't have the childhood most kids had, I didn't have those amazing memories most of you had. I had a childhood that wasn't really much of a childhood. I'd rather call it, well I really don't know what to call it. Just state the fact that it wasn't a really memorable childhood. For this reason I moved to a boarding school abroad with my twin brother, I was really glad that my brother agreed to come with me because I couldn't have gone alone that I know with no doubt. It was really hard convincing my parents to let me go, but at the end they let me go. I kind of got mad at how my parents let us go alone when we were still growing teens. Sometimes I had those bad ideas that they just wanted to get rid of us and live alone. I eventually had to rub those bad thoughts away and remember that it was better for me to live abroad than to live in the country with my cousins. I liked the idea being so far away from my cousins and their terrible schemes. I might have visited for a few weeks during the summer and some holidays but I was still pretty far away from them.
I got so caught up trying to write my story that I forgot to mention my name but I guess it's not that important. This is something that will remain a mystery to whoever opens my diary, Ma' always taught me to not talk to strangers or tell them my identity and to be honest, you -whoever is reading this- are a total stranger since I don't know who will be reading this. I might be writing the story of my life over here but that certainly doesn't mean I know you and that also doesn't mean you know me, well you might know me and that might be the reason you took my diary or read it. I might seem a little rude but I am misunderstood. I am sorry if I were rude to anybody, it's just that life hasn't been treating me that well. That doesn't mean I will complain all my life. I will work hard to achieve just like my Dad taught me.
I always tried hard to please others but I guess I shouldn't have tried so hard. Life isn't about pleasing others, it's about pleasing god with your good intentions and your clean white heart.
I might have a foreign mother but that doesn't mean that I won't be able to stick to my morals and culture, it just means that I might have a different accent and/or that I might also look different. The only reason I was being mistreated in my family and at school was because my mom wasn't Emarati, or Khaleeji either. That was the reason my cousins annoyed me all along. Sometimes I wish that I could go back time and make my father marry a local or Khaleeji woman instead, but then I remember that I wouldn't have got this far in life or wouldn't be as strong or maybe wouldn't be even born if I could do that. I couldn't hate on my cousins because simply, they were my cousins. Also because hate wasn't a word in my parents' dictionary, they don't like the concept of people hating others or envying them. They wanted the community to be filled with love and trust.
It's the weekend at last where I can write my sorrows and fears away. Yes, I did say fears-not really say, more like wrote it-. I fear from a lot of things just like everybody in this world does but I fear from losing, losing my loved ones and losing my only friends I call family.
There was one thing I didn't write last time. I don't really remember it but I might remember it while babbling stuff about my day. OHHH! Now I remember what I wanted to say was...
