It’s hard to realise that people with sick minds are still killing innocent people just to prove their point. It seems the world is full of bloodthirsty people – and not only in my region.
Even as I write this text, I feel guilty. I should not complain as my people in bordering areas are in a worse situation (I’m a two-hour drive away). Then, I realise – it’s a tiny country and the existential threat to it as a whole is more than real.
Everyone and everything I love and live for is under real attack. I’m scared. I’m emotionally exhausted. As a journalist, I’ve been constantly advocating for Armenia but still, I feel I’m not doing enough. I’m hopeless.
Living in Armenia is like walking on eggshells. And this time, I’m not even angry at the world’s selective care – I’m quite immune to that. I know both Armenia and I should rely on ourselves.
Too much to ask?
Trauma is in my genetic code – from the 1915 Armenian Genocide and the “dark” 1990s right up to the present day. Sometimes it’s just dormant and I may think it’s gone, but then it’s back in a blink of an eye.
I should learn to live with the war, stress, and uncertainty that my region and country are bringing with them. I should embrace this bitter reality. But it’s unbelievably hard.
I want to dream and live my life in peace. I want to sleep tight. I want to be wholeheartedly happy when I’m reaching new milestones in my career. Is it too much to ask for?
Both Armenia and I are deeply wounded and our wounds are bleeding. But we’ve got each other’s backs. This, too, shall pass, my little brother.
It’s time to blow out the candles on his birthday cake. I know we are both making exactly the same wish. Amen.
CommentsWe encourage anyone to comment, please consult the oD commenting guidelines if you have any questions.