All my life, i thought i was unlucky one. I thought my life was mess, i thought only God is punishing me, i thought every bad thing only happened to me. All my life was a lie. There are people out there whose lives are more miserable than mine. I've always thought i was the strongest one, the one who suffered a lot but i was wrong and i fucking hate this that i was wrong.

My husband, my childhood friend, my enemy has the worst kind of past. His suffering cannot be explained in words. The man suffered a lot yet he never said anything. Now i understand his love for those poor kids, his love for donation, his hate for his father. Now i can understand why love those workers, his way of making friends. He was alone, he needed someone but no one was there so he decided to not let anyone else feel the same way. Now everything is as clear as crystal.