Day 158 – In the south of Turkey watching small Syrian boys running around the beach every day – my friend from Germany: “Do you think that their parents are taking them regularly to school?”
Me: “Do you think they have parents?”
A lot of things have happened in my life so far and all the situations started to escalate when I left my “bubble” and started traveling. Thanks to that, I met an incredible number of new people from all over the world, listened to all possible stories, problems and thus often became a direct part of situations that would perhaps be better not to experience. The worst of all is that I can’t really talk about most of them. I somehow keep all the stories inside of me and sometimes I incorporate them into photographs, drawings or give them a more specific form in the form of words written on paper, which I then throw away over time anyway.
“I don‘t know my father. I grew up with my mother and her girlfriend who often beat me.”
“I had a problem with a food intake and I still don’t believe myself enough.”
“I don’t have anyone anymore.”
“All my life there is a bag with basic things ready next to me, because I often have to run away from home. All I want is silence and peace.”
“I don‘t fit into a group of heterosexuals.”
“Everyone around me is excited about planning my wedding. I don’t feel like that at all and nobody is listening to me. I’m going to cancel the wedding.”
“My father is addicted to sex. It has become normal for me that my parents lock me in the room and I wait for my father to satisfy himself. Of course, I often hear everything. Sometimes I even see everything.”
“I can‘t anymore. I’m considering taking medication, but I’m afraid it won’t work and I will wake up anyway.”
“I don‘t have a mother. She had cancer and I took care of her until her last moment.”
“My best friend had a car accident. There is a funeral next week.”
“We’ve heard of suicide. I think you know that person.”
“They took me abroad as a child. After more than ten years they told me I had no documents so they deported me back to my country. But my mother stayed there and she doesn’t care about me anymore.”
None of these “stories” are about refugees, but about young people from different European countries. And no, it’s not a collection of situations from my whole life but just from less than a year.
Don’t judge others. No matter where they come from, how much money they have and what they look like, because we can never know what stories they carry with them and what situations they are currently trying to deal with.
And I definitely don’t think it’s a demonstration of “weakness” to admit that sometimes it’s just too much for us. It’s just sometimes hard to suppress your ego, stop pretending being heroes and just say it out loud. 💪