I wrote “The Beginning” not to sound sorry for myself or to say that nothing was great about coming to America. You see, everyone has the American dream. The dream of getting to the land of freedom. You can ask anyone over the seas, and most of them will probably be thrilled to come here.
Back to the reasoning, there is no reason really. I just wrote out of depression and maybe desperation, but really to fulfill my purpose and just to mention again, incase anyone misses it while looking at other entries, that I have been given the greatest gift that I could ever possibly receive. It was never “my dream” to come to America. I came to see my beloved father, that’s really all. But what I later found out was that if I had stayed in Tehran, the beautiful capital of Iran, it would have become a dream for me too. I would have wanted to leave at some point or another. But I got lucky. A dear friend of mine reminded me, after I wrote “The Beginning”, that I should not forget to thank my parents for bringing me here. It’s because of them that I have the ability to write from deep within my heart about my life and memories. I write, almost always, thinking of my past and everything that is credited to me being here, typing these words. I am nothing without the support and love from my family, my cousins, my friends, and my teachers who encouraged me to write. I owe this to them. And I want to thank them and all of my readers. It really means a lot to me that someone out there cares and can connect to what I write. It makes me happy; it makes me want to write…