LOOK AT ME (Muslim Story)

He looked at me (34)

LOLLLL SO I ADDED SOME LYRICS IN HERE AND YALL ARE GOING TO CRACK UP :D
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Ahmed can slice his throat with a knife for all I care. My dad's been lying to me? Please.

Ahmed is good at many things but one thing that I learned about him is that he can definetly get into your head, making you believe something that can possibly not be true. Here's one of those moments.

This is the kind of shit my dad has been telling me since I was a little girl. Ever since I learned to talk, he's been telling me that my mom is out there, waiting for me.

That she's a nurse, helping people in Australia. That the whole reason we couldn't be together was because of her job.

As much as picking a job over your child sounds terrible, I felt that I understood why she did it. Her whole life started in Australia and she couldn't change that just for a girl she gave birth to.

I know that if I had a kid, and I had to pick between my job and my daughter, I'd pick my daughter. But I guess it's not the same for everyone. I don't care, I forgave her a long time ago.

And my dad has no reason to lie to me. What's there to hide? He can't do that.

Most importantly, why would my dad bring my hopes up on going to Australia when I turn eighteen? It just doesn't make any sense.

"There's no way your mom picked her job over you." Ahmed circled around me, his finger on his chin, his thinking face on duty, "Because your mom couldn't possibly have been a nurse when you were born. If your dad was eighteen when your mom gave birth to you, there's no fucking way."

"Maybe my dad was born in 1972." I suggested, "Maybe I just got the dates wrong. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw his drivers License."

That's not true. He was clearly born in 1982. I just kept making excuses because I didn't want to deny the facts. If my dad was born in 1982, and I was born in 2001, my dad was eighteen turning nineteen. And if my dad told me that my mom was younger, that means she gave birth to me as a teenager.

Holy mother of fucking—

I'm not an accident. Whatever it is, I'm not An accident. They intended for me to be born and that's that.

"Emerald." Ahmed whispered, his voice low all of a sudden. The hairs on my arm stood up and I began to feel nervous, "You've been lied to."

I was going to deny it again. I was going to say that my mom was busy with nursing, that my mom couldn't take care of me because of her job but we both knew that numbers don't lie. That my dad was indeed born in 1982, and that I was almost 100% an accident.

My lip quivered as I looked at the tiled floor, "My life is a fucking mess."

He put a hand on my shoulder, "We'll figure this out. What high school did your dad go to?"

"Why?" I asked, turning around, "What does my dad's high school—"

"We want to know who your mom is right?" He mused, making this a little bit fun, "Let's turn this into a mystery. If your mom was in high school when you were born, maybe we can figure out who she is."

"We don't even know if they went to the same school." I kicked the empty floor, "Fuck, my dad went to Harper High."

"Our school?" He rose an eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"You just made this ten times easier." Ahmed Said before putting on his jacket, "Come on, were going out."