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Newspaper Style with No Editor
The news reporter felt as though he had lost all traces of his existence in his home country after his family took over his apartment, carrying out maintenance and changing most of its decorations.
Known as Doomish, he travelled back on February 9th for a surprise visit to his parents. This visit came after several months in the UAE, where he joined a major English newspaper.
The plane landed at midnight, and Doomish was greeted by his brother. The two enjoyed a leisurely ride home, during which the brother offered the fatigued reporter a bottle of water and even stopped to allow Doomish to smoke a cigarette.
According to sources, the parents were surprised by the visit. They only saw their son early in the morning after noticing an unused bedroom door suspiciously closed.
The parents continually pointed out the changes made to his apartment during his absence.
“You should go see your apartment; you won’t believe it,” said his mother.
The parents went on to describe every alteration and repair they had made over the past four months.
Sleep-deprived and jet-lagged, Doomish responded, “Not now; I’ll check it later when I’m rested.”
According to the neighbours, the news reporter arrived at his apartment shortly after noon. “He was distraught and aloof,” said the diabetic father living next door.
“The house is neat, clean, and well-organized,” said Doomish. He went on to describe his feelings: “The house felt cold and desolate; there was no evidence that I had ever lived here for 13 years.”
The news reporter spent his vacation saddened by what he saw and felt, as well as other problems he encountered during his visit.
The estranged son encountered several issues, got caught up in fixing them, and missed his flight back to the UAE.
Doomish was stranded at Queen Alia Airport until he managed to board the next flight.
“I missed my flight, I lost track of time, and I arrived back in the UAE on the next flight. They were some of the worst days of my life,” he said.
My Words:
I have been sad, lost, and borderline depressed! I came back to Jordan for a 3-day visit; it’s been a few months since I was last here.
For 13 years, I had a silent empire—a shelter, a haven, a sanctuary I called my home. A few friends even called it home.
Now, I have it no more.
My parents fixed it up, cleaned it, and even slept in it.
When my brother picked me up from the airport, he asked if I wanted to sleep at my home or at my parents. I told him to take me to my parents.
The next day, they told me what they had fixed and done in my apartment and begged me to go see it. I refused; something kept telling me not to go.
Well, I went. The house was neat, clean, and well-organized. It was cold and lacked my spirit, my identity. I was furious and sad and even shed a few tears.
My home was not mine anymore. I left in a hurry because I didn’t want to cry.
I spent the next few days in a very bad state of mind and even missed my flight. I was just waiting to get back to the UAE to end this awful vacation.
At this point, I don’t know when or if I will go back to Amman anytime soon.
It was awful.
