On my days off

On my days off, I walk at night along the same street I cross every day, passing by many demolished houses; 'demolished by American tax dollars', surrounded by the same familiar, frustrated faces and voices, 'their lives made miserable by the monsters of war.

I remember all the horrible things I've endured; all the fear of more injustice and oppression that could still reach me and the things I love, and yet I often find myself smiling through the pain, wondering, how am I still here? How am I no longer anxious of the sky?

I can actually meet my friends and walk without fearing a drone above me, or a house collapsing on me after being targeted. I smile; an innocent, almost disbelieving smile, when I'm told that I'll one day live more peaceful moments than these.

| think of the mysterious chance to live something even better: a life less painful, filled with beauty and joy, with fewer worries, a life that feels, finally, like that of a normal person. And then I go back, tO my bed, feeling uncomfortable and tired of existing

Dear friends have helped me collect my stories and experiences from the genocide into a booklet; in English and Italian, to keep our truth alive.

You can order it through the links in my bio. All proceeds will go toward helping people who reach out to me for support