It is with streams of tears on my face I write this. This shameless day had the nerve to come; Badryia, the Bahraini mother of a detainee, set herself on fire today. Helplessness burnt her soul way before her depressive act burnt her mere body.

On February fourteenth, 2011, and for about a month of absolute temporary freedom of expression -that I never in my life imagined I could practice-, I carried the flag and to the pearl I, everyday, walked. Along with the flag I carried dreams of my nation to be free of dictatorship. The dreams that shouldn't be dreams in the first place. Our dreams were nothing more than just demands of what's ours, our God-given rights. Give it any term you like if "democracy" scares you, but we wanted nothing more than equal opportunities and rights, justice and accountability, transparency, freedom of expression. Some fucking dignity for crying out loud!

On my beloved small island, the Kingdom of Bahrain, these basic human rights are considered dreams of the average Bahraini man, that once demanded, will be confronted with an army of torturers and rapists. The scars on the bodies of the living before the dead are there to prove it. While the king of our jungle is untouchable, and while our cries fall on the deaf ears of the world, it is clear how humanity is long dead on our planet. I appeal to no one with our struggle because it is also clear how the media, the US, the united fucking nations, are all just a bunch of hypocrites playing with lives of people who barely earn their day's bread with the sweat and tears of their hard work. You are all war criminals.

And to the people of my island, who go on about their lives without a care in the world about the heros who are fighting their fight. Those fighting with all the courage they got, are on the streets, literally dying, for your future before theirs. To the people who are at bars and at malls and at homes talking big behind keyboards while there's blood on the streets, I appeal not to you. Your survival mechanisms disgust me.

Kings of the world must know that the helplessness that burnt Buazizi and Badryia will haunt their thrones. The helplessness of the oppressed is what drives our nations to side by them until the demise of their rule. With this great struggle against my own feeling of helplessness, I refuse to appeal to no one. And I will stand against tyranny, defiantly.

With roses in our hands and guns to our heads. To the chopper guy every night we sing: we are February 14, and against the machine, alone, we still rage.

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