“I’m OK,” I tell my friend from the Netherlands. I understand why he is surprised to hear that. As a Syrian, even I don’t think I should be OK after all that has happened in Eastern Aleppo, my hometown.
Many Syrians have developed this resilience of feelings. Sorry, but we’re tired of crying and grieving and mourning. We don’t cry anymore. Because almost every family in Syria has lost someone in this hell. I lost my father and I couldn’t cry anymore. Regime soldiers shot him. A sixty year old man. They shot him at a checkpoint.
That day I learned that they don’t care if we cry or not. It will not stop them killing us with their guns and bombs.
Since that day, I stopped crying. I stopped crying, but I will never stop with our work. We just cannot stop after all the bloodshed and killing.
I tell my friend that I am OK. I will continue.
