I miss that place so much, it is driving me crazy. Everyday I think about it. Everyday I remember the 11 years that I spent in that place, with my family and cousins. Gosh, it was so long ago. Sometimes I think it must have been someone else, not me, who had lived there. I can hardly reach that other part of me. She is almost gone, the little girl who talked and thought in a different language. The little girl who thought the world is a perfect place. The little girl who didn’t even know herself. I wish she was still here. I wish she was here so I could refresh my memory of what my life was just 3 years ago. Yes, my memory still works, but someday it won’t. Some day I won’t even remember her. Was it destiny that brought me here? Perhaps it was.
The first thing I think about when I wake up is coffee. I love the smell, but I mostly love the comfort it provides. It makes me forget what is happening in the outside world. It makes me feel okay. It reminds me that I am alive and that I have a lot to be thankful for. During the day, I edit web content. At night and on weekends, I sing and jam with a guitarist. And somewhere in between the day, I write. I write about my immigration to the States as a child. I write about my father growing older and my fear of losing him. I write about the common loss immigrants share. What I would like to achieve mostly is to become a better person. I like to help make the world a better place. I am bothered by poverty and homelessness. I am bothered by inequality. As a woman growing up in the Middle East, I naturally became a feminist. I care about women's rights, their ability to voice their thoughts, to sing freely. I love connecting to people. I love hearing their stories. If you have an idea for something I could write or something I can do to help, or if you need music for a small gathering, please message me. View all posts by Elle