There's a saying that we have a selective memory that is leads us to idolize some people if we felt really good about them and that we tend to only remember the worst of flashbacks with people we despise. I think it's a fact for me. Spoiler alert: this part is too emotional and comedy might get too dark for people who worn't traumatized as kids (yes it starts now). it's funny that I'm dedicating an entry for only 3 years of my childhood, most people would jump their whole childhood in one entry or else the audience will stop reading out of sheer boredom (unless the audience constructed of bored parents seeking to understand their children) however I provide you here with a Fucken Jumanji adventure! and considering that fact that you're all quarantined and bored, I'm doing a favor to society. This time I won't be the narrator, someone else will be.. a 70 year old Libyan man with white hair and Asian features (the Irony that I grew up to have As...
Somewhere on this planet, I was born on a winter day in January. Most of people hear stories from their parents or family members about how they weighed too much as newborns or how their actual "birthday" was, I never have, never well I guess. All I know, it was the fifth of January. A date. and somehow I grew up to love birthdays so much that I would celebrate my birthday enthusiastically every single year, I mean my birthdays are HOLY! My dad never missed any of my birthdays, actually he made it a wholesome celebration that never failed to impress me more every year, I remember when everyone used to gather and neighbors, distant family members and all the faces that I can't distinct now as memories are fading too fast. All I can remember for sure is that my birthday was Holy, and so I make it still. But however my parents never told me stories about how I came to this planet.. no details what so ever! Honestly I never cared less to ask too but they NEVER mentioned a...