I Grew Up - 20.0

Warning: long article! A sequel is highly possible. 

Today, I'm celebrating my 20th birthday. So many mixed feelings. Joy, fear, sadness, pride. Loneliness. Your texts, voice notes, photos and calls made my day, thank you everyone! [virtual hugs and kisses]

So lucky that my phone captures the selfie when it detects the smile! This, of course, isn't a home-made tarte...

Nevertheless, I decided to write what I've learnt and did so far during my long (yes, long) life.

During the last few months, I read much more novels and articles about politics, geography, history and biology because I truly suck at them. And I only read articles because I wouldn't be able to finish a whole book on any of these subjects, to be completely honest with you. It felt amazing having some information to discuss with people. I no longer felt ignorant as I used to feel while people brought up subjects I had no idea about. Some new friends even complimented my knowledge, which even pushed me to read more.

I had the habit of deleting toxic people from my life. This year, I understood the effects these people's mean harsh words had on me. I blocked them from social media and ended our friendships. Because....

I put myself first. I am my first priority. Some people would find this statement a bluntly selfish one, but no. I chose to put my happiness and health on top of my priorities for many reasons. I'm not selfish, but I'm not about the sacrifice life too. I won't harm myself to make anyone happy. I help colleagues, friends and family as much as I can of course, but without throwing myself under the bus to do so. 

I realized that not getting some people's validation used to hurt me, especially if it's a close person, but not any more. I no longer wait for people's approval of my choices and decisions. I do what I believe is right (in reference to religion, of course, and my own morals and rules).

I take care of myself. Even in the simplest ways. I try as much as I can to eat healthily, take care of my imperfect skin, terrible knees, sensitive colon, horrible back, you get my point...! No-one will be there for me when I'm 30 looking 50. Easy daily steps make the difference.

I give more and more compliments. Only genuine ones. Telling someone they're smart or beautiful won't diminish your own intelligence or beauty. Telling someone they're smart or beautiful will not only make them happy but it'll make you happy too. Spread the love! 

Now, let's talk about money! I have my own bank account, which is really cool, even though my father's still financially supporting me. But it feels great to be sort of independent. I keep on trying to save money, I fail nine times out of ten, but that's okay.

On a work level, I have a professional CV now and a good cover letter. I also have a LinkedIn account, which turned out to be really how people get jobs these days. Currently, I have no job, but I'm trying to get one. Pray for me.

I'm not so scared of sending emails (especially to professors at college and CEOs). I used to be so scared of even talking to my teacher at my French school. I once sent a teacher a text by mistake and I started panicking for real. But he was a really cool teacher and he took it lightly. I still, however, proof-read any email at least three times, fearing forgetting a comma or being too friendly. But I always end up pressing the send button and getting a reply shortly after with, some times, "okay"only.

Even though I started my driving classes at the age of 17 and finishing most of the classes, I don't have a driving license. My parents were too conscious about letting me drive, no matter how many times my dad sat next to me and observed my awesome driving skills. (I'm kidding, they were only fine). I've always wanted to drive, for some reason I don't even know. I know that driving in Paris isn't really practical and driving in Egypt is nerve-wrecking, but I need to get it out of my system! One day, one day.

I don't judge. I've met people from everywhere who have different morals and thoughts and lifestyles. I genuinely don't judge them even if what they're doing contradicts my own morals and rules. The differences can't stop us from being acquaintances or even friends! A younger version of me would've stayed away from them, so she won't be influenced by them. But I'm mature enough now.

I finally blog! Which is something I've wanted for so long. In order to not repeat myself, here's Why do I REALLY Blog.

Click here to read the second part, I Grew Up 20.1! 

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Why Do I REALLY Blog?

I get asked a lot why I blog, which I find stupid and illogical honestly. It's like asking someone why they post pictures on Instagram, draw comics or read a book...! And since blogging has become an important part of my life for the past months, I think it deserves a final explanation on why I chose it as a hobby.

This article may or may not be updated or edited in the future. Also, sequels may or may not be an option as well.

I've been writing my diaries since I was little. I'm not sure if I've ever shared this before or not, but I've recently found an old diary dating 2006! TWO THOUSAND SIX! Of course, the events documented there are as simple and cute as me obsessing over sea shells I've collected when I was at the beach, but it counts as diary, right? (I mean I still obsess over sea shells and other kids stuff, but back to the initial topic.) I loved documenting my life at this point even if I just ate my favorite chocolate fudge or bought a cute blouse. I loved making these little things last forever.

Me writing in my gang's then-Burn-Book, 2011.

When I grew up and went to middle school ("OMG, I'm finally a teenager!" like), my experiences with people became more complicated. I started writing again, so my diaries would become a future reference, which is really helpful by the way. Reading old ones makes me feel stronger. Makes me motivated to conquer the current issues I have. And as I shared in the So Taylor-Swift-Like article, writing annoying things people did to me helped me figure out their unhealthy patterns and their effects on me.

As I'm currently living abroad, I get asked the same questions many many times, even when I summed them up in another article, dedicated for the  FAQs, it seemed to not  be enough. Even with the constant updates. How's life, college, food, the city and the French themselves. So many questions. My acquaintances need more details and I find it easier to write it once and for all. If anyone asks me a question, I just send him the link to the article explaining in details. You might find it rude, but imagine being asked the same questions a hundred times and being expected to answer with an essay with a limit of 100 words! What is that, a cover letter?

I'm the kind of person who'd go back and read her own old articles and drown in nostalgia, so let me enjoy this. Let me be happy doing what I like and stop judging me or telling me to stop or change the way I do it. Now, don't get me wrong, all pieces of advice are appreciated, but commands aren't. Because I do really love blogging, I've always loved writing. You have no idea how much this small success of my blog means to me.

Have a nice day, fellow human!


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Theme Parks

I love theme parks! I enjoy most of the rides, and I love the Adrenalin rush. I always scream because I'm too excited. Whenever I went, I would want to go a theme park. And compare the theme parks "around the world".

Alpena, Michigan, USA, 2014.

Jakarta, Indonesia, 2013.

It all started when I was ten or younger, I wanted so bad to grow up and go to the "tough rides", they seemed more exciting than the Pirates Ship (or Seahorse, according to the Kuwaiti theme park). I was getting sick and tired of the carousel. 

At a certain year, all the kids' rides were too small for me and I haven't been allowed in the "tough rides" yet. It was the worst theme park day in my life. It was a weird year, honestly. Being in the middle. Not reaching any sides. If someone working in a them park, especially a designer perhaps, why aren't there rides for the in-between-ers? 

When I was in Spain, in 2007 (aged 10), a sort of miracle happened and they allowed me to ride the Tornado (name differs according to each park). My dad was sitting next to me. This was my first experience. I kept screaming "I will fall!! Get me outta here!!". I was actually thin and I frequently slid from the chest thingy. The best thing about this, was that no-one but my dad could understand me! Such an embarrassment... Needless to say that no photos were taken this day.

Discovery ride, Cairo, 2010!

The second experience in Kuwait left me in shock. I was ghost-like when the ride stopped. The third one in Egypt, the Discovery ride, I was also screaming "I'll fall!!". Being skinny and going to theme parks wasn't apparently a wise decision. The same day, I gave Discovery a second shot (the photo on the right). And that was it. It cured me from my fear! A new era has begun!

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Is It Worth it?

Since day one, I started to notice what I've blindly signed up for. Loneliness and leaving friends and family behind seemed to be the problem, but actually, it's deeper than that. It's the feeling of not belonging in either places. I have lived totally different emotions and experiences from people on both sides that I barely belong to the small number of people like me. Egyptians living in Paris. Only these, almost.

I missed out on birthdays, trips, hangouts and more. I'm missing out on new inside jokes and anecdotes. And sometimes even main life updates. "Oh, did I forget to tell you?". No matter how much I try to keep in touch, it's still hard to send my heart there while the rest of me is here, kilometres away.

My dear friends, on the left, eating sushi and me, on the right, added by them!

What's even unnecessary and annoying is being accused of not caring enough to call or text. As if my  sole purpose in life is to answer or text back when anyone from home contacts me. I get you're busy some times and I respect that, so why don't you too? Why making it harder? My life is full of complications, such accusations would be beyond my energy.

All these long-distance relationships, are they really worth it? Or are we denying the fact that it's almost impossible to live that way? Are they really worth it or am I supposed to start fresh or what? Should I leave my memories behind and make new ones here?

If you think they're really worth it, then help me fight for them then...

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Pray for me...

I'm currently not in my best mood. I have tons of tasks to do whether for college, myself or blogging. I haven't written anything for days now because I don't feel motivated enough. I feel really down, actually. Tired. Exhausted.

I was scrolling in my photo gallery and for some reason some pictures of my college application popped. There were many selfies too where I was a total desperate mess. I have no idea why I took them. I checked the dates, January 2016. Let's talk about that. 

My cousin took this photo after I told her I was fine. "Oh really? Then have a look on what I've captured"

That was a terrible period for me, too much stress. Hopelessness. Pressure. Many, many questions, whether like "So are you really leaving? When?" or "Did you write the cover letter? Did you read about the college enough?" Also, it was my last year at high school and I had to get good grades too.  And there was the ROV competition also. But, I conquered it. I got accepted into a university I couldn't imagine going to, I got good grades and our report ranked fourth worldwide! 

I hope next year, I'll look at my 2017 selfies or read my 2017 articles and think "Thank God, I conquered that tough period!". 

Pray for me...

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"Home": Chapter Two

And finally, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the second chapter of "Home"! If you haven't read the first one, click here!

Photo credit: favim.com

The party was sweet. It was many hours long, not caring that the poor Sarah has been on a long trip. She didn't complain, she was too tired she almost fainted. Or did she?

The next morning, she woke up with a terrible headache. Jetlag symptoms. Determined to fill all her vacation time with productive activities and hangouts, she got up and managed to freshen up. The bathroom hasn't been changed at all. No matter how many times Alia said she wanted to renovate it, she never did. Her children knew she’s been short on cash so there was no blame at all. The mirror was still cracked from the right top corner. Flashbacks rushed into Sarah’s head, despite she closed her eyes to wash them away. She tried to look into the mirror instead of at it. Her reflection was better than her expectations, to be honest. Her panda eyes felt puffy but weren't actually. Her oval-shaped face and thin lips were dry from the lack of water, but that was fine. Her dark hair was a bit greasy so she concluded that it must be washed, soon. She couldn't help but judge her own nose, she’s always disliked it and called it “typical ugly Egyptian nose”. Not only people could be mean to themselves, but also racist, apparently…

All her toiletries were still in her backpack, she almost forgot she unpacked nothing. Either spending the two weeks living out of the luggage or getting a grip and unpacking for the love of God and all the clean tidy things, it was her choice! She did the right thing and fetched her expensive shower gel and shampoo and her average toothbrush and loofah. The warm water relaxed her a lot. At the age of twenty-six, it was hard to face something that a warm shower couldn't fix. Or at least for that specific moment anyway.

In the kitchen, she wished she had brought her new coffee machine instead of drinking cheap instant coffee. “How did I use to drink this on a daily basis? This is garbage!” she told herself. Caffeine was caffeine anyway, so she’d be focused and energetic in a bit, she was sure. Also, walking or driving to the nearest coffee shop in such state wasn't the smartest thing to do, right?

The fridge was full of cheese, vegetables, juice boxes and eggs. The typical “Sarah’s coming home” kind of shopping that she’s always found very sweet and thoughtful. No matter how many times she came back home, each time she missed the good, but not so healthy, local food. And every time she overate. But she was on vacation, so she deserved it. She’s been working really hard all year long, so she definitely deserved it.

Sitting in her room, she scrolled down the social media for a while then decided to watch a movie to kill some time. Still too lazy to plan her activities and stuff. Loneliness hunted her, as usual, but she didn't care, too. She tried so hard not to think of anything that was significant or game-changer. She washed away her thoughts and focused on the subtitled movie. After all those years in Germany, she still hasn't mastered the language. No matter how many hours she practised with a “friend” or how many series she watched, she still wasn't fluent enough.

It was then noon but Alia was still sleeping. Typical. Shady was at college and would probably come back home late if he had to work too. She wanted to call him to tell him to come stay with her, spend some sister-brother time. But no. He was surely busy.

She’s always been the overly-protective sister who’s been always worried but hides it so she wouldn’t scare her brother. His recent actions were worthy of worrying and constant checking, honestly. However, Sarah knew better than bringing them up and discomforting her little brother. She spent years trying to win his trust and she sort of became his friend, thus it would be recklessly stupid to throw at him questions, investigation-like, or even Alia-like.

After the movie ended, not very pleased with it, she grabbed her smartphone and texted her girl friends in their group chat. “Heyyy girls!! I’m finally here so we should totally hang out!!” she typed, as if they haven’t already known. She fooled herself into thinking she might even meet them more than once. Her gang has become a mix of busy and workaholic mommies. Going out with them with their toddlers was never Sarah’s ideal girls’ night out. She longed for their outings together before each one of them got stuck in a marriage. She was never ready for them bashing their husbands and in-laws but she always had to listen attentively. She loved her friends after all, no matter how they’ve changed and no matter how she’s changed too. Compromise was key.

The replies were typical, “Yes suuuuure”, “Thank God for your safety, how was the flight?” and “We missed you so much”. She replied to the kind words then suggested they went out the next weekend and waited for a reply, laying on the bed. Beep. A text, but not from the gang. It was Salah: “Someone came back home without even dropping by and saying hi!”. Here we go again, the teasing. So, she teased back “Tell Auntie Eiman I say hi and kiss her for me!”

Instant reply: “I’m serious, we want you to come have lunch with us today. Come at around 5, I come back home at 4ish”

“I’m sorry I can’t, I changed my mealtimes a long time ago. Now, I eat lunch at noon. [tongue emoji]” She wasn't even sure if she was teasing anymore.

“How about tea at least? Tea at 6 or 7?” He was genuine and willing.  She sensed it.

“Tea sounds fine” Although she was dead sure he hasn't even told his parents they would have her that day. A cup of tea and a chat with his parents and him wouldn't harm. Alia would definitely insist on coming and even bringing Shady if he was free too.

“See you soon then. Back to work!”

Growing up next to each other, then drifting apart through the continents, they must've missed each other, normal. The last vacation he barely had the chance to lay an eye on her let alone talk to her. They went to the same school, constantly visited with their “mothers”. But what wasn't normal, that they didn't both feel the same way about each other.  What was even worse, that they had no idea they weren't on the same page.

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Mother-Daughter Relationships 2

As I promised, here is the second part of Mother-Daughter Relationships. Click here to read the first one, first.

6. New Priorities

This is a mother who found a new person or thing to offer love and time, instead of her own daughter. Either it's a new baby, a new husband or even a new hobby, the girl feels left out and neglected. This is very dangerous, because, again, the girl could hurt herself looking for help and support from strangers who seemed more interested in her, than her mother. 

If the girl has enough courage to face her mommy, or if a family friend stepped up and did it, there might be a chance to fix the situation. That is, of course, if the mother isn't selfish or crazy.

7. Norm

Healthy mother and daughter with a normal relationship. No drama. No lies.

The mother is loving and caring: hugs, kisses and encouragement. The daughter gives like what she receives as well. Since this mother is a good listener and not too strict, the daughter has some freedom and doesn't need to do anything behind her mother's back

On the long run, the child tends to find comfort and security in her mother's presence, she asks her for her opinion and advice.

8. The Cold Bothers Me Anyway

She's not emotionally available for her kids, she does't hug and kiss them. Doesn't tell them she loves them.She could also be described as "unloving". As if this woman didn't have motherhood instinct in her DNA package. Labelling a mother as unloving and cold is still not very socially-acceptable, even though it is true. Not very common, but true.


A daughter of such a mother doesn't feel lovable or worthy of affection. This leads to lack of confidence and courage and self-hate. Also, many trust issues and troubles setting boundaries in her relationships. She constantly tries to please her mother and gain her love, but her attempts are all disappointing.

The girl could turn out as cold as her parent, an infinite cycle then.

9. Indifferent

Indifferent, mean and sarcastic, what could be a worse mix? She could be unloving as well, but it's not always necessary. 

The achievements don't mean anything to her, the failures are mean jokes material. She's too much stress and pressure in her daughter's life. Never satisfied with her or what she does. Never acknowledges her, as if the daughter has never helped her any way.

Infinite cycle, anyone?

10. Breaking a Leg

Her motive could be " I'm doing this because I want the best for you", but deep down, she physically abuses her child as a sort of revenge. Not even necessarily from the child herself. (Even if the child did something wrong she shouldn't be harmed, of course). She has issues and any child's mistake, like breaking a vase or getting bad grades at school, provokes her and seems to her enough to hit her and get rid of all the anger...

An abused child tends to be abusive as well even at young age. Her younger siblings, cousins and colleagues are potential victims. The irony is that, the abusive parent, would punish her for being agressive with them! As for her relationship with her mother, it falls apart gradually. 

Final Word 

If you're a daughter of a bad mom, being aware of her destructiveness and how you life's affected is the first step towards healing. Seeking professional help should also be very helpful. 

If you are a bad mother, and I doubt you'll even notice or label yourself as one but okay, you should identify the reasons of your behaviours, either on your own or thanks to a therapist, and work hard to fix this mess of yours.

Good luck y'all in your journey!

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FIFTY SHADES ROOMMATE-R

Hi, remember us, Samaa and Noura, the roommates? Well, we've got some new craziness to share with you. So buckle your seatbelt and come on board! If you haven't read the first part, click here.

Eating Nutella, banana and almonds crêpe.

1. Telepathy

We reached an advanced point in communication. I told her "Let's get dressed and go! I will bring the thingy to buy the thingy" She replied with a simple okay. I asked if she even got what I was saying, because she was texting and not 100% focused for sure, she actually translated what I said. I was really proud. "Next, telepathy, then!"

2. Sharing has NO END

During the Amy crisis, I shared with her almost the full story. I needed someone to talk to without judging or arguing. But there are also the trivial stories, information and anecdotes that are shared all the time, it's a whole package.

3. Shame on You!

How often do you get an email offering a JOB anyway? It's really rare. I find it impossible. But yet, it happened to Noura.

She got an email offering her a really great job in the UK! After the cheers and screams and high-fives, Noura got serious and "I'm afraid it's a scam!" she muttered.

"What?!"

And then an FBI-like investigation took place. LinkedIn, email adresses, Facebook, the company's website, we missed Twitter though. But we came to a conclusion! It wasn't a scam. Then it was. Then after ten more times, we were sure, it was a scam! If an FBI officer is reading this, we could use some jobs over here, thanks!

Noura is no regular young woman, she didn't just ignore the email. She replied and here's the email to get the image. You go Noura!!

4. Cease the Chance

Every single thing that faces you, is an "unceased" opportunity. That's sort of our motto. The scam incident was a great excuse to contact the company for instance. Asking even friends for some extra help and job/internship hunting. 

5. DJ Sky

Living with someone with the exact opposite taste in music is a true struggle! I adore music, not all the types though. Listening to music most of the time is a part of my soul. But when I'm forced to listen to creepy lame Egyptian songs, I just can't! Humans invented headphones and earphones for a reason, Noura! 
"Give me the DJ task" say I frequently.

"No, not you!"

"Oh really"

Then an emotional wedding song is played. God, help me!

I'm glad that she, at last, listened to me and bought headphones. 

6. Wrong Name

It's a universally-known fact that a girl gets angry when you get her name wrong. I used to call Noura by Salma at first, the name of my ex-roommate. And then I got confused between Nour (a friend, Nour means light in Arabic) and Noura, like ALL THE TIME. Especially when I have one of them on the phone and the other in front of me. "Nour, no, Noura, ugh, Nour!! What do you think about...??"

Adding to the mix, I have a close friend and a cousin both called Nouran. So that's too much light for me, honestly.

7. Nicknames

Now that's a different topic. Noura invented a nickname for me. I didn't like it all and asked to change it. "No I like it!"

"Then I'll invent a disgusting nickname for you and keep calling you by!"

"Fine!"

After two minutes of throwing nicknames at her and getting an approval, "What about Nounou?"

"I like it!"

God, am I the only picky one here, or what?!
Two weeks later, and I still call her Noura.

8. No Getting Over... the Dishes

There are always dishes that need to be done. Either in the sink, on the desk or on the "kitchen" table. Sometimes, someone goes full Katniss Everdeen and volunteers, but sometimes "You will do the dishes today! I did them for us many times!". So I have to zip it and put my gloves on. Yes, I put gloves while doing the dishes, because I have sensitive hands, even though I'm not sensitive myself.

Other cleaning tasks don't seem to bother us much, each does them when she feels like it. No rush, either because they're not as frequently needed as the dishes or because we're racist towards the dishes. Still not sure.

9.  "I'm great"

In an attempt to raise my self-esteem and general mood, I encourage myself after every task with "I'm great". Sounds a bit narcissist, I know, but I'm just too much. And according to the yelling roommate, it's also annoying. Sometimes I'm sweet, I promise, and I tell her and other people that they're great! Especially when she tries something new or just randomly. If I tell you that you're great, it means I love you. 

10. The Help

I must admit Noura pushed me to do many things. Like yelling at the kids who speak out loud during the lectures, I have no idea why are they attending if they don't want to listen. That's another story though. It felt great to shut them up, politely. Praying with a partner was also something really amazing and encouraging.

BONUS Anecdote

One weekend, we were preparing lunch. And since we both wanted pasta along with other foods, we decided to cook it together, normal. My spaghetti was fine, and for some reason Noura's turned out too thick and watery. Maybe it was because of the sauce, still a mystery to this day! She ate some then "No, I just can't, it's too terrible."

"Let me taste it, it can't be this bad." I took a forkful, and then spit it. "But you have to eat this, we can't throw it away. Haram!"

I came with the idea of offering it to a homeless person near our apartment. After adding some spices and heating it in the microwave many times in hope the water lessens a bit, I did. I gave it to a woman, then almost ran. I was afraid she tastes it and insults me or even spit on me! It felt good to help.

But, I've never seen this woman again...Which is scary because I used to see her everyday. "Your spaghetti killed her!! I'm actually worried..."

When we were watching Cloudy with A Chance of Meatballs 2, Noura pointed at this and yelled "My spaghetti" !

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Click here to read why I blog. Also check the first chapter of my story.

So Taylor-Swift-like

Hi, my name is Samaa, I’m almost twenty and I’m a beginner blogger. I used to write my diaries. I've been writing them since I was little actually. Writing has always been my way of pouring my heart out and a great resource for my future self. Honestly, I like to read my old "manuscripts" to see how I solved such and such, screwed up this and totally nailed that. I've even suggested writing down feelings to some friends, even without publishing them. But they never did it because they’re too lazy. Their loss anyway. (Yes, I’m talking about you, Karim)

I swear to God, I was once so mad at a friend that I dedicated some of my precious time and diaries’ pages (they were pink with flowers, don't judge me) to write down every single annoying and/or terrible thing she’s done to me. I started analysing every trait of her character just as if she were a novel character. I’m sometimes crazy, yes. I came to the conclusion that she wasn't a good person though. So who's the crazy person now!?

A week ago or two, a friend of mine went HIKING (and yes, I’m talking about you, NORAN [red angry face]) at Saint Catherine. Cool right?! No! Because we were supposed to go together with a third friend too. I was too excited, before even telling my parents, that I started considering buying some tools and stuff but she bailed on me! But she went with her family. Betrayal. I was so mad at her for a couple of days. I told her I’ll write an article about betrayal because of you and I’m serious. And the Magnificent Meeral said “So Taylor-Swift-like!” which was funny of course, but so true too.

Taylor probably writing down: "This !@$%# just told me to hurry up, stage in 5.  Nobody tells me to hurry up! Note to self: new song soon"

Many of my articles are written after personal experiences even if it’s not really obvious. Sorry not sorry, but blogging has become a kind of therapy to me. I have many things going on in my mind, and keeping them to myself causes chaos in my head and nobody wants that. With a literally busy schedule, I try to write all my thoughts and feelings as much as I can. What was even cooler was that I found support from friends, even friends of friends and total strangers. Some of them telling me they feel the same way too, others acknowledging my writing skills. I'm really glad I finally used my "gift".

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Ashamed or Guilty

Disclaimer: the following article provides my own personal views that might be different than yours so it’s okay.

When I was at school, my actual third one, but first real one, kids were a little bit different. And what I’m going to say next might seem a bit impolite, but most of them were less privileged, I’m sorry I had to. But now I will clarify why I've mentioned it.

You see, my mother was kind of obsessed with travelling, she dragged our little four-member family to a bunch of countries during my childhood. Months before travelling, she dedicated her time to plan each trip. Her love of travelling was, I must admit, contagious too. But that’s another story, back to our main topic.

So, being a kid who’s travelled many countries outside her own put me in a minority category. A minority that experienced different things and not just travelling, but obviously other stuff too. I bet you get the picture now thus any further examples would be plain bragging.

Why did I mention this? Because believe it or not, this kind of lifestyle made me feel a little bit guilty. Guilty that I’m privileged. My life was a little bit less hard. I've tried better activities, seen better sceneries. It was hard to share summer vacation stories without sounding (at least) a little bit arrogant. I felt odd.

But when I changed schools, and went to an “international” school, the situation was reversed. Everyone in the new school has travelled abroad at least once. People had a more luxurious lifestyle than in my old school in general. If you have read my Friendship article, then you know in which school I actually made friends. But anyway. I no longer felt privileged, I felt average. Which was good. Until…

Later in high school, all what mattered to me and my colleagues was applying to college. The head of department once did a sort of presentation about this, she said that, every year, a third of each class goes to Egyptian public universities, a third to private ones and the rest studies abroad. And obviously the private ones are much more expensive.

A colleague of mine set his goal to study at a certain private uni, and since I was older and wiser then, I honestly said “I wish I could go there, but there are no longer scholarships and my dad can’t afford to pay my tuition fees”. As simple as that, with full confidence. I must say I’m proud of myself for reaching this point of self-acceptance. There’s nothing wrong with being unable to spend more money than affordable. There’s nothing wrong in admitting it in public. It’s wrong to lie and say things like “No I don’t like to go there, not good enough for me” while you, in reality, can’t afford it. How much you make doesn't equate your worth.

The moral is, you shouldn't be ashamed of being less privileged than others. Nor bitter. They may lead lives that sound fun and expensive, but believe me they have their own problems too. And if you feel guilty for being privileged that’s wrong to you, because that’s not your fault you were born in a richer family. Everyone deserves inner-peace.

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