My Life Story
// Life!!! It’s a funny thing. It is said that life is a journey, something to discover something to look forward to everyday, something to make your presence on this earth worthy. In reality I have found non of it to be true. The reason for my existence is still unknown to me. The soul-searching path I have led for as long as I can remember has come to nothing. I am where I am, with a slight difference, I am older, and more traveled, a bit wiser, yet still as confused as ever. I have had my share of boyfriends, assuming each one of them was either my soul mate or a step closer to meeting my soul mate. I have traveled more often than my parents would have liked me too. Discovering that people all around the world are exactly the same, the only thing that differentiates them are their rituals or customs. I have bathed in the warmth of the sun, hibernated in the cold of winter and walked freely in the summer rain. I sat in cafes and read books, gone out for dinners, chilled on side walks as I listened to my music. I have met and made the best of friends anyone can ever wish for. I stayed out late, drowned in the world of liquor, smoked marijuana as the days merged into one and danced till the faint colors of the rising sun. I walked on silky beaches, watched the sun set and rise, wrote poems to the waves and swam with the fish. I grazed in the glory of God and worshiped Him day and night. I prayed and cried and asked and loved. I covered my body from head to toe then with time I exposed it all over again.
Strange how life takes you on a journey and then brings you back to the same point you started on. What is that mysterious point? Is there a point that I need or should reach? How far away from that point am I or how close. I seem to be drifting in an endless whirlwind with my eyes closed, but as I open them I have come to realize its not a whirlwind at all, it’s simply a circle.
Where do I begin my story? How do I express my feelings towards my life by using the right terms? The right words? The right emotions? Do I start it all when I was 9 years old, when I lived in Muscat with my parents and my siblings. Life seemed semi normal back then. My dad would walk into the house after a long day at work and give me a huge hug. I would run up the stairs to my bedroom with such an ease of joy and serenity, full of youth and optimism and life. I would go out in the midst of summer and its drawling heat to ride my bike with my neighbors racing one another. In one of those hot summer days we found out that one of the houses on our street was haunted and it kept us going to it for a whole summer enjoying the rush of fear it bought us all. Fear, isn’t it funny how at such a young age I would run towards it just for the rush, and as the years pass and my life expanded, I started to run away from it? Explain that to me, explain how its possible to have the desire for something one day and the lack of it the next.
Maybe I should start by telling you about my life in Abu-Dhabi, when I first got there and I attended a school that did nothing but provide a way of life filled with fear of people and anticipation of the unknown. Till this day I am sure that the school was built on a foundation of fear. Gray walls that covered the texture of the sun, gates made of steel that were locked to make sure no one got out before the day ends. Teachers that looked horrifying to any child. Their main purpose was nothing other than to install a life long filled with fears and insecurities. I remember once when one of the hall way supervisors grabbed one of the students by the hair and dragging her on the floor screaming words I can’t recall at the moment as I think that I could not have recalled them back then either from the fear that I felt in the depth of my heart. A year after being in that environment my mom took me to the doctor, worried about me cause I had the flu for 3 month and nothing would make it go away. Strangely enough the doctors response to my ailment was to get out of that school immediately since my body was slowly collapsing from the pressures it was installing in my system and therefore causing me a non stop flu. My beautiful loving mom could not bear the thought of it and so took me out of the hell hole I was in and placed me in the American School where my whole personal entity began.
My parents are the most wonderful people I know. My dad is a hard-working man, who tried in every way to provide us with the best education and life style. He made sure to never make us feel that there was anything in life that we can’t have, we lived in the luxury of life. My mom is a mom and a wife, a previous ballerina and full of life and energy. Because of her our house was always filled with music and dancing. There was never a day when our house was not filled with people and music and laughter. My friends were always welcome over and there was always a large sum of food to entertain anyone who came into our world. To everyone on the outside world, we had the perfect family, the best family. My dad, tall dark and very handsome, distinguished in his mannerism, Funny full of life and the need for a full life. My mom, slender and slim, with a beautiful body and hair that reached the curve of her lower back, she made sure that music was the base of our livelihood and was always there when she was needed by us, her children. When I look back at how our family was like, I think to myself, waw, we lived such a lie. Until this day I sometimes go back to the habit of pretending that everything is perfect yet knowing deep in my heart that nothing really is what it seems.
The thought of how to start and where to start my story to you is still lingering in my mind and I can’t imagine where to start and how to start. I think the best way is to divide my life up to you in the same way it is divided up in my inner mind and soul. The way I see it, the way I feel it and the way I think it really is like. In my mind my life is all in fazes, incidents, boxes. Each one distinguished by a new move, a new school or a new country.
To be Continued……