I can’t remember how old I was when I knew about it, but it was roughly between the first and third years of primary school. My mother told me that we are not your real mother and father. Your father's name is such-and-such, and your mother’s name is such-and-such, and they died in an accident. Since that moment, my heart was racing and felt like I am drowned in a sea of thoughts. I kept asking myself the real question, which was: If they died in an accident, how did I stay alive? I was shocked to my very core. The shock was brutal and difficult. I don’t remember how many days I cried before sleep because it must have been years and I am not exaggerating if I said this because I could not imagine that I could lose my mother and my father who I am with now. The issue has affected me psychologically, physically and socially, and I feel that at this time I have become silent and do not talk much, and I have not been able to form relationships with those around me. I also stopped eating and threw away food. I barely ate and I wasn't even hungry. These are things I noticed when I grew up a little, but when I was young, I didn't understand why or I wasn't even interested in understanding why. All I could think about was, "We get punished when we do something wrong. Surely I'm a bad person, so this happened to me." And sometimes I feel that I seriously don't deserve anything. I don't deserve what they do to me. I don't deserve their love because as I said, I'm a monster. I wasn’t much popular because of my appearance, my weight, and my way of doing things. There are many things that made me unable to determine whether my childhood was good or not. My problem is that they never helped me with this matter. I don’t know if they thought that this was normal or that I would forget or what the truth was. I don’t know. I wanted them to tell me the whole truth and I would have accepted it as I accepted what they said before because I certainly had no other choice, but at least I needed someone to tell me the truth. This may be difficult, but it is not my fault, and I am not as bad as I thought, and there are many people like me. What I denounced the most is that every time I come to ask what exactly happened, they yelled at me for asking. For them, my questions mean for that they are not enough. I just want to know, and this is my right to know. I live in the hope that I will meet them when I die, and I will meet my mother in heaven, and I keep imagining what we would look like when we meet, and that thought and dream comfort me because at the moment when this happens, I will not be afraid again. I will not be sad again. I will not lose anyone else. If I decided to tell them that now, they will be upset. I just want them to understand that just as any father and mother love their children with the same love as each other, I can also love two families with the same amount of love, and that they both represent many things to me, because in the end, this is what made me the person I am now. If I go for kafala of a real child, I would feel that I am the happiest person in the world, because I am sure that I would give him all the love that I have. I am sure that I will read books or learn what is the right way for him to be raised well so that he can become a good person. He won’t feel inferior in any way, and of course he has complete freedom to miss his biological family, and I will respect that very much, and I will be happy to answer all his questions and discuss them and make him understand that his being like this does not mean anything other than that he is a special person to me, and that my love for him is unconditional. I love him because he is the person he is, regardless of anything else. This will surely make him love himself, and this will give him confidence not only in himself but in those around him as well. I know that the whole matter will be a traumatic experience at first but I will take him to a psychological counselor if I felt that he has dark thoughts. The most important thing for me is that he is able to share all his feelings about anything freely and without fear or such. Kafala in general is a beautiful thing, but it also has negative effects, and any child, no matter how big he is, deserves to know his truth, love it, accept it, and feel love from those around him. Also, the name of the author of the story was changed based on her desire.
