This Country

This country has stolen a stage of my life.
It raised me to believe I would have all the time in the world only because, in reality, it would grant me none.
So I am a daughter of that generation that rotted in university chairs, certain that this would secure its future.
And although I am among the few who spent only the necessary time on their studies, I still feel without time.
When I think of myself, I call myself a girl.
Whereas my mother at my age already had a husband and a three-year-old daughter, my sister, six years older than me, who was a late and unexpected birth.
Meanwhile, I don't even think about children.
This country has stolen my sense of motherhood.
Not that I don't want any, it's just that I'm out of time.
I have no future, I have no present, I have only a past, which takes shape with every instant that passes without any meaning.
Constantly nursed at the breast of maddening insecurity, I survive.
This country has stolen hours of sleep and peace of mind from me.
Because when you feel without time, you think it is always the moment to reclaim what belongs to you.
Like now, tonight, as I write this text-
Which many of you won't read because it is longer than 10 lines and this country, alas, has stolen your culture and curiosity.
But despite everything I write, organize, do, design, plan, dream.
Because this country can steal everything from me, but not  my creativity.
Least of all  my dignity.