Age and Anger

I've been gathering those broken pieces for ages, those broken dreams and flaming anger salima, you know how terrific growing up with highly cultured mum and dad and patriarchally oriented brothers and sisters could be. You will be all alone with your ideas and ideals, be the only one for your struggles and sins and get used to the idea of letting go a lot , but how long do we have to keep sacrificing? How much more do we have to sacrifice to feed their blood thirsty traditions and values that only get satisfied when we are reduced to tears.
When I graduated from the university, I saw the light of success just the way you saw love salima, I didn't had a first class or second class upper but I had just what I wanted, hmm. I smiled at the thoughts of the good olden days. I started writing for a local fashion based magazine, started as a columnist and eventually rose to an Editor, mum was just satisfied with that. Whenever I get salary she would collect a part and add up to buy one or two things we save for my wedding. The wedding she so much desire, the one I secretly avoid just the way I secretly kept searching for a bigger Newspaper to work for, you know your girl quite well. The long years of constantly attacked hope and humiliated self esteem didn't make me any less ambitious, although the only thing that counts here are notes, I dispensed with any note in my attempt to fend for myself, I didn't seek for any assistance girlfriend, you know family, they can do it but they won't, if I'd ask anyone to help me find a better job they will only waste my time or bring in some annoying excuses of protocols and values, their values of course. So I tricked my way to Media Trust since family cannot stand to see my face on the screen daily.
I was so happy, my life was going as planned and for the moment I was unaware of the adversities within so I began with treating the ones outside , I got consumed in my fantasy of trying to make things right for my land through journalism, I was so into the struggle enjoying my freedom that I couldn't see the grenade in me before it exploded.
Salima robbed my palms horrified and popped out her eyes. Even you? What exactly happened girlfriend?
Yes. Even me, not just me and you, we are all over, everywhere. I will tell you the story in full.
Salima filled up our glasses with the cold chilly juice before we took our seats facing each other.