Then came school.
---
The first day…
and I knew.
I didn't belong.
---
In Saudi Arabia,
school had been calm.
Organized.
Predictable.
---
Here…
it was chaos.
---
Students everywhere.
Voices overlapping.
Movement without order.
---
And then the canteen.
---
A scene I would never forget.
---
Dozens of students
crowded around a small window,
pushing, climbing, fighting for space.
---
They weren't buying food.
---
They were fighting for it.
---
I stood there, watching.
---
Not moving.
Not speaking.
---
Trying to understand.
---
Was this a school?
Or a battlefield?
---
Something shifted inside me.
---
The curriculum was difficult at first.
---
But my father…
stood beside me.
---
He explained.
He guided.
He simplified everything.
---
And slowly…
I began to understand.
---
But understanding
was not the real challenge.
---
The real challenge
was the road.
---
Every day…
an hour of walking.
---
A small child,
carrying a heavy bag filled with books,
walking through cold rain in winter,
or under a burning sun in summer.
---
Sometimes alone.
Sometimes with a friend.
---
But the road…
was always long.
---
Step after step.
Day after day.
---
The exhaustion grew.
---
Not just in my body—
but in my mind.
---
The realization
that this life
required more effort
than I had ever imagined.
---
But the true understanding…
did not come here.
---
It came later.
---
At university.
---
When everything became heavier.
---
Expenses increased.
Mornings came earlier.
Distances grew longer.
---
I was no longer just studying.
---
I was enduring.
---
And there…
for the first time in my life…
I said it clearly:
---
This life… is not easy.
---
It wasn't just a sentence.
---
It was truth.
---
A truth I felt
in every step,
every struggle,
every attempt to keep going.
---
And from that moment…
I no longer saw life the same way.
---
I began to understand it.
---
Or at least…
I began to understand
that it would never be gentle with me.