First of all, I know you don’t exist, at least for me. I stopped believing in you a long time ago, without even realizing. I only know that on some regular day - a day that I heard about ordinary death news, I saw cruelty, I experienced injustice - I quit believing.

If you exist, if you’re out somewhere in endless space, please take our sufferings away. If you’re real, I don’t want to believe that you see all these and still do nothing.

Some people say that you existed, but you lost your power. Is this true? Did you lose everything that you had and maybe that’s why you don’t care? If you’r not fictional, at least this version of your story can make me believe in you. Otherwise, I don’t want to worship a god who sees the world now and remains silent.

I am going to keep this one simple and straight to the point. I live in a small country in Asia, and since the day I was born, I have seen tortures of women and until a certain age, I never realized that this was unfair. Since the moment that my eyes were opened, I asked myself every day:

”Why do we have to suffer this much?”

And this question kept evolving and changed its shape, meaning and direction every day.

“Why do especially we have to suffer?”

”Why doesn’t anyone care that we suffer?”

”When did we start to suffer?”

”Who will do something for us to not suffer?”

And I cannot seem to find a sensible answer. Every news, every title shocks my brain and alter everything in me. And the comments. Comments that come from men who never had to bother thinking about their privileges. They have never had to question their bodies, they have never had to cover their faces, they have never had to sit at homes at night to keep themselves safe, they have never had to accuse themselves when they get abused, and they have never had to suffer from abuse as much as one of us did.

I do not really know if any of this makes sense. I only hope that one day every one of us gets to know what being free means.

Some of them are portents of heavy rain - the tears that my twenties have been bringing. The tears that pour from my eyes even the times when I don't have anything to be sad about. Some clouds are tremendous and white, like my dreams. I am frustrated by the thought of them, I am always scared of what will happen if they don't come true. What if I fail, what if I don't make myself proud with my future self? I don't know the answer, I cannot know everything, and that's why I chase those huge white clouds. Some of my clouds hide themselves in the sky to make me see my true self, which I don't seem to appreciate. I have accused and tortured myself, I starved my body, I made myself suffer in ways that no one else did. Yet sometimes, when all worries go away in one glimpse, when all gray clouds disappear, I get to love myself for just a second. Sometimes this glimpse comes with a joke from my friends, or a simple moment I spend with my sibling, or a hug I share with my parents, or the smell of sheets when I get into bed after a long day, or a good grade I don't expect. It comes, takes all gray clouds with it, and leaves.