My name is Basman

Sometimes I feel proud of what I have achieved as a young man. Some other times I feel not, I just feel awful and jealous and I am lost between those feelings.

I am always lost of how I see myself. I love that my mother still tells me she’s proud of me. I still see that in her eyes. I love that my friends still laugh with me and still enjoy hanging out together but surely the government has a different opinion. I think that the government sees that the good boy is gone bad. He started to criticize, to speak his mind and to ask, the three sharp arrows that every government hate. The occupation sees me as a collateral damage yet from time to time I love to see myself as a fighter, a fighter for my right and freedom despite all the adverse effects of fighting over my health. I mean who can name something on earth with no side effects?

My name is Basman, which means in Arabic, always smiling. I am pretty sure my parents want to always see me smiling maybe that’s why the gave me my name. I don’t know how the world sees me or if even it sees me, does the world see me? Do I really want it to see me? Am I normal or want to be normal according to its standards? What a name would the world give me? It is normal feeling or I am just exaggerated?

I am returning home from my job. Tired and sleepy. Through out the way to home, I have fed up with all these questions. The only way I want to see myself now and make me smile is sleeping on my bed.

• Arabic
• Basman
• first name
• name
• smile
• word meaning