My parents loved us deeply—
a pure love without conditions.
And we loved them back
with a kind of innocence that cannot be measured.
We were not wild children.
We were calm,
bright,
and often excelled in school.
It was me,
then my brother Ahmed,
and my younger brother Anas—
three souls
living as one.
We walked to school together,
returned together,
played together,
watched television together…
Even our smallest moments were shared,
as if separation was never an option.
We loved learning.
We chased everything new.
And when computers began to appear,
they fascinated me in a way I could not explain.
Something inside me
pushed me to understand more,
to explore beyond what others saw—
as if I were searching
for a world bigger than the one I lived in.
From a very early age…
I felt different.
Not better—
just deeper.
I thought differently,
saw things from angles others didn't,
and felt events
in ways that went beyond my years.
I believed—like any innocent, thoughtful child—
that this would help me fit into the world.
But the truth…
was the opposite.
The more aware I became,
the more I collided with reality.
I saw life as something ideal,
fair,
beautiful—
as it should be.
But slowly,
I began to understand something else:
Reality does not resemble our dreams.
And the world…
is far less gentle than we expect.
Among all my memories,
one moment never left me.
A simple moment—
yet deeply engraved in my mind.
We were playing,
just like any brothers would.
But in a single second,
everything changed.
Anas threw a piece of wood.
It struck Ahmed near his upper lip,
leaving a wound
that still marks his face to this day.
A small scar…
on my brother's face.
But to me,
it was the first proof
that childhood is not as soft as we imagine.
That pain…
can begin in the simplest moments.
This is how my story began.
Not as a perfect beginning—
but as a real one.
With illness,
with longing,
with early awareness,
and questions bigger than my age.
A beginning…
on the edge of life.