We Learned to Love Each Other From The Sorrows Of Others

I was born on a surprisingly cold night after the warm day of spring. My understanding of life happens after I met my friend.

My friend who met him at my university and later became my only life companion, my friend. He grew up in the Child Welfare Dormitory and lost his mother, father, brother, and home in a fire. We met him in the first days of college, he is my blond, green-eyed, weak innocent face. If I say weak, he is physically weak, and as a character, he is a very strong person, honest, understanding, well-intentioned, loving naive who tries not to offend anyone.

Our friendship with him started when he sat next to me while sitting on a bench on campus. We started talking and I learned that she had just gotten nursing, and that day I realized that she would heal my wounds like an angel.

I was just starting the Faculty of Business Administration. I escaped from my mother's nag and my father's condition. I was successful in high school but I didn't study much. I also benefited from my brother's vocal works, and I listened to the lecture very well. My brother worked hard and finally won the place he deserved. He entered the Faculty of Medicine.

It was my brother's dream to be a doctor, I know he wanted to be a doctor to heal my father. He wouldn't say, he was a quiet child in his own right. He looked at my father in such a way that he felt sorry for him and he loved him.

As for my father, he started to display strange, aggressive behaviors at a young age and then to have dreams. When he started talking to himself, my grandfather brought him to the doctor. The doctor said schizophrenia. My grandfather thought, what should they do in the village, what they would say in the village, and he brought his medicines to the house. My grandmother was an authoritarian woman listening to her word, something came to her mind. Their income was also good. He thought that if they married his son, who was seventeen, the voice of the villager would stop.

He wanted to marry the beautiful daughter of a very poor family from a distant village. In the meantime, my father was taking his medication and a lad like mercury appeared. My mother liked my father. Well my father is a fat young man. My mother fascinated my father with his delicate physique and beautiful face. They got married. At first, my father was good with the drugs, and over time he started talking unsteadily and laughing. Sometimes it becomes silent and sometimes it gets angry over time. My mother wanted to quit and go. His father did not accept, he has no other place to go, what should he do. Not long after she got pregnant with my brother. Then, when she got pregnant with me, she couldn't let go.

When my grandmother and grandfather died, it was up to my mother to pull the house and turn it around. Because my father changed from day to day in a different mood within himself, and people started to call him the village madman, whose illness was very advanced.

Here I grew up in that village as the daughter of her mad grandfather The children would make fun of us. I used to hate my father ever since. Why would my father say that? When my brother was angry with my mother who pushed him, I would say he was doing well, and I would behave badly. We would have had our share of what my mother said.

We were alone with my brother in such a house and in the village where nobody was friends because we were the children of his mad grandfather. My brother gave himself lessons in hopes of healing my father. I had no friends anyway, and I won the university with her studying aloud, listening to her lessons and my attention in the lessons.

We started to meet with the blonde slender girl I met in the first days of college every day after school. We were getting along very well. Our dormitories were close. I was staying in a private dormitory in that state dormitory. We met in the park at the corner of our dormitories, which were close together, and walked to school together. When we got to know each other well, we went home to girl and girl. My financial situation was good, my friend found a part-time job at a cafe, he was also receiving a scholarship. We were passing by.

One night I woke up screaming. It was coming from my friend's room. I ran right away. My friend had a nightmare crying. I sat next to him, she hugged my neck.

She started telling the details of her life crying.

My father said, he could not get oxygen at birth, had meningitis at the age of three, his intelligence was not developed, and my mother was deaf and dumb. I see it in my nightmare every night. They are my dear. Even if they were with me, the voice said to my mother, I would be difficult for my father

In my eyes, my father and my father started to cry when he gave me chickpeas with children's eyes. When my friend told me I cried for my father, for his family, for my own arrogance.

My friend continues to hiccups telling and when my mother went to the kitchen to prepare food, I said to my father I was cold. My father started stirring the stove. My father went to buy wood and said he left the stove open. I saw my brother pour his cologne on the embers splashed from the stove. They burned, my aunt saved me, I remember. But they could not save them, I could not prevent my brother, he continued to cry until the morning because I burned them. I heard my friend's voice every night and tried to comfort it, but I could never comfort myself.

While I hated my father, he was not ashamed of his parents' handicaps, and he was painful for not being able to approach them.

My father's children's eyes and the innocence that he gave him by the reversal of his socks was the pain of my heart. That night was the night my life changed and my arrogance collapsed.

I went to the village last week, my father forgot that I had scolded him or he looked into my eyes as soon as I walked through the outside door as if he had never been broken. It was so clear, so loving, so proud. I also embraced my father with pride and love. I hugged and kissed my father for the first time without any embarrassment.

World Of Madness - Poetry

You ask me why I'm crazy

Look around, look at the streets.

Every stone smells chaos.

Strange! Can not you see?

You ask me why I'm crazy

As you watch the dresses at the Paris fashion show,

Some people die naked

The system covers this nakedness with lies.

You ask me why I'm crazy

System to increase the rate of drugs

Playing with people's psychology

Someone goes crazy with the profit from drugs

Someone gets normal and rich.

You ask me why I'm crazy

To comfort the conscience of the arms traffickers

I live in a world where it opens charities.

Everyone is on social media, important, happy, strong.

Well I'm asking?

Why do these people not exist in real life?

If everyone is this happy, are the aliens increasing the crime rate?

10 years have passed.

My brother became a psychiatrist. He changed my father's medication and persuaded him not to quit at all. Now my father has been using his drugs, which he has used irregularly for years. Better than before.

My mother is not nagging anymore. A reconnection has been established between us. We are very happy. I started working in a private bank.

My friend became a nurse and got married because I did not get rid of the tiredness of my arrogance and my life began to make sense.

This is life; Sometimes it teaches to love each other from the pain of others. Sometimes, however, it brings back what we miss from God, albeit late.