Time freeze is written by Melyssa Babikian, a talented Lebanese writer. Melyssa got a master’s degree in English literature. She is currently working as an English Instructor at MUC University and an editor at GWR consulting
It’s been one hell week that we went through.
I’m still in shock and can’t get my head around what’s happened to our beloved country, to our heart warming Beirut.
I keep wondering if this is just one really bad sickening nightmare that I will wake up from soon, but it does not seem like it.
One week ago, the most catastrophic thing ever happened to us.
The most dangerous and gigantic bombshell through us all off-guard.
It destroyed our lives in every possible way, literally.
Not one single person was able to escape from it, nor pretend like it did not happen.
I know that now I should be spreading some positivity and joy around. But I am grieving, so badly mourning.
I used to think that these kind of things only happen in movies, never had it crossed my mind that we will be a living proof.
Wherever you go , whatever you see, no matter what you hear, it will remind you of the explosion.
I still cannot erase the blood scattered all around Beirut. On every door, every street, every alley, every house, every human being.
The voices of people calling each other to make sure they are still alive.
Searching and searching each and every corner just to find something that will ease our pain.
“ I need something? Just anything? A shoe? A necklace? Anything to find my boy, my man, my son, my daughter, my love, my parents.” That’s how desperate these mothers and fathers are to find their children.
Three days have passed and still nothing. The majority are still not found.
Fast forward to today, and still, some of them are covered in dust underneath the ground.
How will they be able to live now?
How will they will be able to breathe knowing their sons were running out of air?
How will they sleep knowing their sons are wide awake beneath the ground?
How will they go on knowing that their sons will never appear again?
I cannot put my head around it. I keep replaying it in my mind.
Those who did not lose anyone, lost their hometown.
Our mothers are slowly dying, Losing their sense of time. They are frozen, dead, suffering and mourning.
We will make it through, but how we will become? Well… I’ll leave that to you.