For twelve days now, I have lost the meaning of my life. Twelve days where each day feels like a year, and every hour feels like standing outside in freezing air. For twelve days, I have not felt the freshness of the air. For twelve days, food has had no taste. For twelve days, laughter feels meaningless, tears feel voiceless, and sounds seem silent to me. Twelve days of nightmares, separation, and grief for school. Twelve days of silence. Twelve days without meaning.

I wish this were only a dream, that I could no longer take my steps toward school. I wish it were only an imagination that I can no longer sit on school benches and listen with my whole heart to lessons filled with love and gentleness.

I wish that twelve days ago, this news had not reached my ears, that the Taliban were gathering girls and not allowing them to leave their homes. The words I heard about collecting girls by the Taliban shocked me and left me frozen for moments. On one side were the new rules of the Taliban, and on the other side was my father. After learning about the gathering of girls, my father no longer allowed me to take a single step toward school. Alongside the restrictions of the Taliban, my father repeatedly told me, my daughter do not go outside.

Because of my family’s opposition and fear of the Taliban, I could not leave the house. Every morning when I woke up, I waited for my father to come and say, my daughter go study. But no matter how long I waited, it never happened. Many times my heart felt heavy, and I cried, asking God where I had gone wrong for this to happen to me. I cried and asked, is being a girl a crime? Why is life so hard for girls? Sometimes I asked myself, what part of this world should I hold on to, a world that looks bright on the outside but dark within?

I have been restricted in every way. I cannot even go outside with peace of mind. I am not allowed to hold a pen. I cannot wear the clothes I choose. The restrictions of the Taliban and my father’s fear have made life unbearably difficult until I see myself in a world empty of calm and understanding people. In the middle of all these worries, I have lost the meaning of my life. I cannot say anymore why I live.

I was a girl whose entire day revolved around school, courses, and teaching. In the mornings, I went to school, talked with my teachers and friends, studied, laughed, and joked. Then I returned home. In the afternoons, I went back again. I had about twenty students. I taught them English. I miss deeply that it has been twelve days since I last heard the noise of my students.

Although I am only sixteen years old, I feel as if I have grown up, yet I have not found the meaning of life. Today, I can no longer define life. The hardships have pressed heavily on my mind. Fear of the Taliban. Fear of losing my dignity. Fear of protecting my own name and my father’s honor.

Before, whenever someone asked me to define life, I spoke calmly with eyes full of hope and said life is myself. I did not say this out of pride or arrogance, but out of belief in my abilities.

In my view, the true meaning of life is oneself. Because until we are healthy, until we are happy, until we try, life has no meaning. But today I can no longer define life, because I cannot even step outside my home. How can I have motivation when hope no longer shines in my eyes? My heart no longer flutters at the thought of going to school.

Sometimes I think of memories that smell of learning. I remember days when we sat in classrooms, everyone holding a pen and notebook, carrying backpacks filled with dreams. How beautiful those days were, when classrooms, schools, markets, streets, and alleys were full of girls. Today, everything is empty of women and girls. No school holds the presence of girls. No market is filled with women.

Today, as the meaning of my life fades, I have become wiser. It feels as if pain is shaping me. I now understand the weight of suffering. I understand independence and its absence. I am no longer the little girl who played in the streets. Today, I am the real Rabe-eh, struggling in every way so that one day I may reach my dreams.

I know everyone has their own meaning of life. Until I give value to myself, I cannot plan for my future. Even though problems tighten around my throat like a knot, I am not so weak that I will fall because of them. If today I still hold a pen to write, it means a light of hope still shines in my heart, showing me the future.