My heart pulsates in my chest as my skates tear through the delicate ice, the cold of the air licking at my face and crawling underneath my thick hockey uniform. Sorry, that wasn't too dramatic, was it? Anyway, I've recently picked up ice hockey more seriously than I ever have before. I find it to be an escape. An escape from Marid. An escape from Ummah. An escape from being who I'm obviously not. The cold of the air doesn't judge me like the cold gazes of my peers and family members. I'm safe here; I'm free. Allah, please give me strength.
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//I'm so proud of my little ice skate lmao
I know they're crappy little doodles but they're my children tbh
YOU ARE READING
𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐆𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭
Romance❝ When I walk into a room full of people, I always look for you first ❞ ஐ In which Zaki Hadad, a gay Saudi Arabian teen, struggles to accept himself in an oppressive society and outlets his feelings into his journal.
