Syria, Home to millions of people, not only in walls and roofs but deeply in hearts. Hearts that have been tearing apart for the past 4 years now. The place where our souls sang the happiest melodies has become a place where some can’t even sing anymore because the worst of violence is occurring instead of violins playing. In the land where every sound felt like a concert of joyful laughters, people can’t even think anymore, without hearing the burst of a bullet hitting their inner silence. Life was never only rainbows and spring. Everyone went through hardships and some were more in need than others, but thankfully, the Syrian people have always showed that there is nothing more important than to give love without expecting to receive in return. Water and electricity happened to be cut at least once a day, usually for around 2 hours, depending on how lucky you turned out to be. But, it had nothing to do with what the Syrian people have been going through for the past 4 years now. We usually never hear about it do we? If I did not have family and friends going through all of it would I ever find a source that would actually tell me about it regularly? No, because unfortunately, it seems like the Syrian people have been forgotten and that all that there is to focus about is who is going to win. 4 years that the Syrian people have no roofs for some, no place to be, no parent to go to, nothing to eat. Some kids are the same age as the Syrian conflict and have never known anything except it. We find ourselves and I am guilty of it, complaining about the shallowest things. And, I guess it is normal. Because, we’re just human beings. But, imagine if the day you were born started with misery, if the day you were born you were under a tent with your mother praying for you to survive because the circumstances were not reassuring. The situation has reached such an outrageous degree of atrocity that we found ourselves calling ‘lucky’ the child who still has parents by his side, to look after him. People leave their houses and are not sure if they’ll make it back home because a sniper might decide to shoot without an actual reason. I catch myself having nightmares about it while I am safe at home because even though we’re away physically and our ears and lives aren’t being exposed to the bombings and shots, our loved ones are and I don’t think there is something harder I have lived. And, watching my parents worrying constantly and being sad all the time about the place they were born in, is heartrending. Even though it’s not comparable to what the people that live through it every day are enduring, it has changed, broke, moved and touched every single one of us that are far away. It’s been 4 years, and I can’t count anymore. 4 years that life has become something we’re unsure means anything, because thousands of Syrian people have lost their lives sometimes only a few hours after opening their eyes to the world for the first time. But, war isn’t only death and bleeding it also is the loss of the innocence and future of the youth, going through what they thought they would only read in newspapers and books while preparing for their tests at school. It also is dreams being crushed because you’d rather spend money to buy bread to feed your family than celebrate your wedding in a white gown with your future husband. Tears have never been more abundant than during these past years, crying the loss of a country that once happened to be the warmest thought in every Syrian’s memory and has awakened so many people’s appreciation of what was once something taken for granted while it actually meant the world. But, I do believe that since the soul doesn’t die and every Syrian contains Syria in his, Syria has been there for thousands of years and will always be.