Recovery

Chapter 1| Back then.

Hello!
If you're a reader and you always wonder
like I used to, "When will I have the courage, inspiration or 'time' to become an author too" .The time is now, dont stress too much , just write !
I hope you enjoy the story. I would love if I receive feedback, I want this project to be as great as possible. Not only is this my first book but I also wrote the story from my phone.I'm sure it has typos and errors so please excuse that.
Thank you,
Najwa Hsn

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Insecurity was that monster hiding
under my bed. I Wished I was anyone but myself.

For some reason, my family taught me everything but how to love me for me. I felt like everyone was better than me and that I was nothing special at all. I would sweat and feel sick when I had to speak in front of a crowd and pray no one looks at me as I do.

I knew I wanted to belong somewhere, I just didn't know where that was.
Didn't hug or kiss people, even if they meant the world to me. That was just too much, i liked my personal space. Yet somehow, i felt sad when I saw my friends get goodbye hugs from their parents every morning.

Expressing my feelings was something I was never good at. Didn't know I was very unhappy and never noticed because back then, I thought it was normal to feel that way.

I had two best friends, Sandra and Rima. Rima was nice and just went with the flow, but sandra.Well, she was that blonde that had all the control.

I always thought, "oh my god, she is so beautiful. I wish I looked like her". Tried to impress everyone.

The only person I was myself with was my grandmother. I didn't have to pretend, or be a certain way to meet her standards because she had non. She loved me the way I am. She called me her golden earring, precious and wanted to take me with her everywhere.

I didn't have a talent nor did I think I would ever be good at anything. Thinking about all this now, makes me laugh. Why? Because nobody should feel this way. Now only do I know how toxic these thoughts were.

Not only did almost everyone around me bully me , but I also bullied myself.
My father have been busy since the day I remember.
He's a hard worker , his main priority are his kids. Laila and I. He always made sure we had everything we needed and always called us "his investments" .

I always envied Laila though , not for her beautiful face or great humor, but for her ability to not let anything get to her no matter how terrible. My mother , gorgeous and full of energy, never told me she loved me but she would choke the life out of anyone who lays just a finger on one of her daughters. Tough love? Yes, that's what it's called.

We lived in a small town close to Fez, Morocco. My sister and I went to the same school and I always got good grades. I had nothing on my mind back then, I didn't worry about what to wear or how to look nor did I have a phone of my own so my whole life was about pleasing my parent by being at the top of my class.

Looking back, my life was dull. Family road trips during the holidays, two friends, school trips and television. That was basically my life until the end of fifth grade, when I heard the best news in the world.

It was a Friday, I remember being so exhausted after a long week and looking forward to a boring weekend at home facing the television. My father was extremely late which made my day even worse.

Usually, he would be very upset because he is late, he is insane when it comes to time. Everything should be on time, sleep on time , eat on time. Everything planned out, if one little detail is not where it should be, then that's it. It's the end of the world and we are all irresponsible.
He drove by and cheerfully waved at my sister and I , I gave her a worried look. This is not what I expected. He must have some caramel donuts or chocolate chip cookies as an apology for wasting another hour of my life in this shit hole. But no, the backseat is all clear, Fairouz is singing her lungs out on the car speakers and he is wearing his favorite pair of shades. Nervous, I ask my dear father, "Dad, how was work today?" He looks at me from the rear view mirror and says " never better". And as if that answered my question. Well, it did. But he knows what I mean. I decided to keep quite while a million questions float in my head.