A Backpack of Dreams
(2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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The ocean is not vast enough to contain all the anger and sadness that linger in my heart, the rage that I feel rising in me each time I hear a joke, a negative comment about or an expression of disgust at the mention of LGBT people, at home, at work… But what can I do about it? I am helpless. When a friend tells me that I was “born to be normal and homosexuality is not normal,” what can I answer him? Or when my brother tells me that trans people “fiyon shi mish mazbout,” what am I supposed to say? What bothers me the most are those so-called educated people, including my father, who react saying: “Tfeh! Malla 7ayawenet!!” This, I find it too hard to swallow.
When I’m walking in the streets, I feel people looking at me with weird expressions on their faces, as if they were reading me like an open book, as if “I am a lesbian” was written on my forehead. I know it is not true; there is no one looking at me. I have just become paranoid. I don’t feel safe anywhere. That’s all.
Only a few people know that I love girls and my secret is a burden. I would like to share it with my family, with all the people that I know, but I can’t. I have to live a permanent lie. I guess a lot of us are in this situation.
I often feel that life is meaningless and hollow. I like a girl, she doesn’t like me back… Another one likes me, I don’t like her back… That’s how it has always been so far. How am I supposed to live without love? How am I supposed to enjoy life? My life is a puzzle and most of its pieces are lost. Half the time, I feel I am nothing more than a machine, spinning, turning round and round, going in circles with no purpose. Every single day is a new battle for survival, like crossing the desert with no water, no food and no compass.
But I have a backpack of dreams that I carry with me wherever I go. That’s what keeps me alive, what keeps me moving forward, what helps me to carry on, what makes me raise my head towards the stars, despite all the pain and despair, all the fear, all the disillusions, all the bruises, all the wounds and the scars…
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- Contributed by St.
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