Sitting near the window in the library, I’m staring at what is happening outside. Nothing much. Just cars driving and people passing by. I am one of those people, I am a citizen of this city but for a moment, i feel like an outsider. I am drowning in my thoughts and thinking of Home. I am going really really deep in my thoughts, so deep my eyes start watering unconsciously having many people staring at me while I am still staring at the street. As I am staring through the window, I think about the fact that wherever I will go and no matter how hard I have tried to make other places feel like Home, nothing is ever as strong as the feeling of Syria as Home. The feeling I am talking about is a feeling you have probably all felt at one point in your life. Usually, that feeling comes rushing when nothing is falling right into place. When everything in your life feels scattered everywhere, and nothing’s working out, you remember Home. And when you remember Home, you realize nowhere else on this planet, will accept you in all your shapes or forms, with all your crazy thoughts, and your big projects, as insane as they might sound as much as where your heart belongs. Your tears don’t feel as legitimate in any place else than Home because it feels like all your feelings belong there, and even when at your worst, there’s always some kind of peace of mind covering you. And, even though it’s november and the leaves have all fallen and it’s getting colder outside, everything feels warmer inside of your heart. Your eyes have never shone brighter in that place, and your soul has never felt more alive. When you reach that feeling, you are finally at Home.
Syria, It has almost been four years you’ve uncovered me. And, it feels so cold without you.