He is a refugee from Lebanon. He is an older man. He have had a really traumatic and rough life. He is a Muslim. Very conservative. He has a lot of anger and is very concerned with honer.
I was born the 22th of November 1996. My dad was so happy that he got a son. Another man. Problem was, I wasn’t how he had expected me to be.
I actually can’t remember a time where I didn’t have a bad relationship with him. I’ve always hated him, loved him at the same time, but definitely hated him.
He was so mean, so strict and so damaged. He had two wives, two family, we all knew about each other. The other family hated me and my siblings, and my dad was very much aware of this. What did he do? Nothing.
We would hid when he came to visit. He was always so mad, and would hit us a lot back then. I hated spending time with him. I hated seeing him treat my mom and sisters poorly. I was so mad at him.
At the same time I wanted his attention. I wanted him to be proud, to show me his love. But everything I did wasn’t good enough. I was always too fat, not strong, not smart enough, not talented enough. And then suddenly I was too skinny and to much in to music and theater, not enough into school. Then psychology wasn’t good enough, we wanted a docter, and so it goes on and on… You know the story.
To be continued…