LOOK AT ME (Muslim Story)

He looked at me (35)

He was right. I knew it, but I just couldn't admit it to myself yet. It's like saying it out loud, would ruin everything I've ever believed.

Everyday, I find out something knew. I go through something else, and for some reason I'm still fine. Why am I still Fine?

My dad's a liar now? Cool.

It's like everything is different now. Everything. Was I really born on May 1st of 2001? Or is that something my dad made up? Guess we'll never know.

Is My dad really my dad? Or a serial killer who killed my real dad and buried him under our house? Guess we'll never know.

I can't trust anyone anymore. If my own dad can lie to me, who am I to trust other people? I mean, I always want to trust Ahmed. But what I'm scared of, is not being able to.

My body's been through hell and back. It's been abused, overused, taken advantage and it's fucking tired. It's fucking exhausted.

I love my dad. It's a fact, it's a proven point. I love my family, the only one I grew up with. I'm seventeen for god sake, I'm still growing. And ever since I was born, there was only one person to take care of me. My Dad.
He had the choice of putting me into an orphanage but no, he chose to take care of me instead.

He had the choice to leave me, sell me, give me to the neighbour but no, he wanted me. He wanted to raise me, and bring me up to be just like him.

Can I forgive him? I don't know.

He's my other half. Someone who raised me, protected me, helped me when I was down. Would you hate someone like that? Even a person like me, couldn't hate someone like that.

When I left the school, I went back to Ahmed's house, knowing damn well that I don't have to worry about his mom since she's coming back at 5. I fell asleep on his bed, making sure to cover myself that night, just incase his mom were ever to walk in.

I wasn't sure if Ahmed was following me from last night, but I don't remember seeing him the next morning. I climbed out his window as soon as it hit 8 o'clock in the morning and walked my way back to my house.

I didn't walk there to give in to my dad. I walked there so I can get my homework, my bag and all the things I need for school.

As soon as I walked in the house, my dad was sitting in the living room, his thinking face on. He had his legs crossed, watching television. The second I walked in, he stood up really fast.

Then a smile appeared on his face, like he was worried. Worried that I was never going to come back.

With a long and loud sigh, he put a hand on his hip, "You realized which religion you belong to, huh?"

I looked at him blankly. Is he fucking serious?

I wasn't planning on making any kind of talk with my dad. All I wanted was to walk in, grab my school bag, grab some shit I might need and walk back out. He got his hopes up, and I don't know why, but it was kind of offensive.

I shook my head, no expression, "No, dad. I came for my bag."

I don't usually talk to my dad that way, so blankly, so emotionless. When it comes to me and him, we're always joking around. Making the best out of the worst. That's who we are.

But today was different. I feel like ever since I found out my dad's been lying to me about who my mom is, then There's no talking between the two of us. I love him, but I have to leave him. He's fucked up right now.

My dad's face fell when he realized what I had just said, "You're making a mistake."

"I only came for my bag." I made it clear before walking in and grabbing my bag that laid on the staircase a long with some lunch that my dad must've made. Did he really expect me to come back that quick?