I’m 32 years old.
I’m divorced, and I don’t have any children.
When I turned 32, everyone pressured me into getting married.
I honestly wasn’t really looking forward to it.

I went to my shrink and told her there was a hole inside of me.
Prescribe something, anything. I'm not happy feeling this way.
It's like someone plunged their hand deep inside, took something, and left.

Why don’t I trust my body?
When I felt comfortable with you, why didn’t I believe that I was actually in love?
I didn’t believe the touch of the hand or my head resting on your shoulder.
Or when you lifted me off the ground so we could dance.

I now understand why they say: “When poverty knocks at the door, love flies out of the window.”
I work, I cook, I wash, I clean, and I take care of the baby.
I just can’t do it anymore.
I want a break from my life.

"No, Hatem is such a girl. He's shy and doesn't like talking about asses and boobs and stuff like that!"

We’re not allowed to laugh in public.
We’re not allowed to be happy or dance in public.
We’re not allowed to sing in public.
We’re not even allowed to cry in public.
We’re not allowed to do anything in public.

You can’t go out alone. I have to be with you.
I have to be there even if you go out with your friends.

My whole life I have felt that there is something wrong with me,
Or that something is missing.
Something everyone has, but I don’t.
Something that always makes me shy and unable to talk to people.

My upbringing was very conservative and restrictive,
The house and Amm Salah’s supermarket at the end of our street were my limits.
Just these two.
From kindergarten to the second or third grade
I went to an Islamic school.

One day, he made the sudden decision to get rid of our television, claiming that it was “brainwashing and influencing” me.
Another time, after our first fight, he took my mobile away.
“You’re never seeing this phone again.”
He was so angry that I was afraid he’d do something to me.