‘I Don’t Have to Tell You I’m Scared’: Inside One Syrian Family’s Displacement
“I felt as if the world was coming to an end.”
I don't have to tell you I'm scared. My body is shaking, my voice is cracking—fear is running through my veins.
Don't ask me about being homesick. Ask my friend, the one I left behind; we cried together until I thought I would suffocate in my sorrows.
Don't ask me if I'm in pain. Ask my books and journals that I saved under the rubble; I placed them neatly on a shelf to bid them and my bedroom a decent farewell.
Don't ask me. I beg you! Ask the bricks of my broken house. For the tears in my eyes may overflow if I say just one more word. So please, don't ask me.
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A down pillow, grey with dust, came down the line. I was angry at it, at how light it was, how easy it was to pass.