I once heard someone say the phrase "Making peace is harder than making war." At the time, that seemed so irrational, so absurd. On April 17, 2016 just before I closed my eyes, I made one final plea to God. A plead to end this storm of air raids -that have been surrounding me for 14 months now- and fell into a slumber. Waking up hurriedly, to see the news only to be hit with a shock of disappointment that the air raids never stopped and my plead wasn't heard. To think that for a moment I believed peace would prevail, how silly of my 17 year old self. A few days passed and news that the peace talks were back on came and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flooded by a new rush of hope. It's funny how much a human can hope. As happy as I was, I was equally perplexed. Bewildered by how the same people who send missiles in the earliest hours of dawn can also manage to speak of peace. Perhaps I am just not that good with multitasking, after all who am I to judge...
On a voyage to find myself under the showers of air raids