Life Is Subjective

Chapter 4-Starting my new and apparently ˝better˝ life

After a few days in my new home, I remember how we were advertised to come here: ˝better life˝ were the two words frequently used to describe it or ˝second˝ chance, as if we had done anything wrong to miss that first chance...

I never thought I would miss Syria but apparently I could, I apparently could even miss a totally destructed home and family. But I did: I missed my country. I feel like there everyone understood each other their difficulties were the same, but here I think the citizens think that we are here just because we don't want to be in our city but the truth is we don't have any other choice...

I sometimes ask myself: do these people even understand that it was difficult for us to leave our country too? Knowing that there was even the possibility that it was the last time we were seeing this country: like this when it was still not destructed...

Here where we are, in Turkey, we are treated like animals that were asking for money. People would come and say stuff like:

-"Go back to your own country!"

-"Instead of coming here, go fight in your country"

I knew that a lot of Syrian children faced bullying in schools too... Yesterday I was talking with Sienna, one of my new Syrian friends, and she told me about her school as a Syrian. I knew I was going to go to the same school as her tomorrow (I couldn't go today because my mom wanted to make sure I wouldn't faint again). She told me that it wasn't so hard to learn Turkish and that I'll learn it fast. I still would ask myself what I had done wrong to have to change my life, become a beggar, go to school in a different country and language... And the problem was I never found the answer.