Painting A Dream In A Nightmare…

He was different. But not a psycho.
He was quiet. But never abusive.
He was more responsible than the other men around.
He stood on his heels for four days straight for his first-born.
He spent every penny to make things better.
He changed himself however and whenever he could. But he wasn’t a Prophet.
He was a man.
He was a father.

Then came the day of accusations.
He was called every name in the book.
He was called mentally sick.
Lies were thrown at his face, but he didn’t deviate.

He took a stand that day. But he didn’t plan anything awful.
He took a stand because there are things you shouldn’t apologize for.

You should not apologize for taking a stand… for speaking the truth… for respecting yourself… and for ending a toxic relationship…

Even after that, he didn’t run away from his responsibility of fatherhood.
He begged. He ran to courts. He went to people.

He asked God.

Things became messier and messier.

Then one day, after 1.5 years, he saw his flesh and blood. It was an extraordinary reunion at court.

Things got better for awhile.
Then again a struggle started. A war of nerves. He was threatened to be killed again. The same things with which he was threatened during the relationship and after the relationship.

Somewhere a bullet may be waiting to be entered into his skull.

That doesn’t bother him; in this so-called life, he dies daily. Yet, he forces himself to live.

What he imagines is a future: a garden full of flowers where he is giggling and running with his daughter without any fear of the unknown.

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