I'm more than just a number

6th of May 2016

   This letter was translated from Arabic, written by Abdelrahman after learning that the appeal of the case was refused and that he is to spend 15 years of false imprisonment for a case in which even the families of the victims confessed that he was innocent.

6th of May 2016 .

 "This is vomiting. I'm throwing up with my pen on the paper. Throwing up what's on my mind so that I don't lose it. Although I will go insane sooner or later.

   For when the mind is incapable of understanding, logic is disrupted and the heart is wrenching real pain you can feel in your chest with every beat, know that you are finally insane.

    This is vomiting, so if you feel disgusted or disdained, don't read. As for the first time I don't care whether you read or not; I'm not writing for you, I've written in a last attempt to not lose reason, tracing the remains of my blown mind and gathering its shreds.

    Crushed a cockroach before? Do you remember the feeling when it's squeezed under your foot? Remember that final motion, when you press your foot slightly to the right and the left, ending its hope and chance to live?

    I did that a lot in my life, and I memorize that feeling; but for the first time I'm not the one who crushes.

I'm the cockroach.

    I'm in that final stage, no hope, no attempt, only surrender. My bones are crushed under the sole of the injustice while moving to the right and the left, ending my life with its final touch.

   Injustice is monstrous; I don't understand nor comprehend it. I don't get how its possessors live. It's so irrational; I didn't try to figure it out. But even in my outmost exaggerations, I had never imagined the injustice to reach this limit.

   I never imagined spending a long night shedding tears and shivering. To sit for days mute. To live inside my darkness or let it live inside me till you can't separate one from the other, to be broken and humiliated, to feel the dreaded feeling of oppression.

What had I done?   What had I committed to deserve this?

Why destroy me and my entire family without committing even an insignificant crime?

Oh God I don't understand.

God I beg, make me understand... For if I don't, my mind or what remains of it won't be safe.

What damned humanity is this?

I hate it, detest it, and despise it.

   Which humanity is this that does to me what an animal hadn't done to another ever?   What humanity is this that closes its mouth and blindfolds its eyes against such blatant immorality?

    Per contra, it accepts to live and allows the rest to laugh, lighten up and dance on the bodies of those like me from the cockroaches... undaunted by our screams. But injustice will wake them up when it's crushing and weighing them down.

Sometimes I wonder how the time passed...

 Why didn't it stop and wait?

How did it maim me then leave without a care?

Am I that worthless?

I'm tired...I'm tired...

I want to get out...

I want to get out of this grave before I lose what remains good inside of me, before I hate everything and everyone...

Before I hate myself.

  Tired of the degeneration of my hopes and ambitions. Tired of them lowering the roof of my aspirations day after day until it gradually became under my feet.

    I do not want extra minutes out of the cell; I don't want an extra toe space to cushion my back on while sleeping on the ground. I don't want to stretch my leg. I don't want to not be insulted or abused. I don't want a few more minutes with my family.I want to get out.

Alive or dead, get me out.

I can't tolerate more of this, I can't endure.

I'm blown out.''

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