A boy suffering from parents divorce
Nderim Zuçaku
My name is Ardian, and I am in sixth grade at a school in Prishtinë called “Elena Gjika”. I wish I could say my life is like a storybook, but it feels more like a never-ending nightmare. It all started when my parents, Lirije and Bajram decided to get divorced, and nothing has been the same since. I remember the day my parents sat me down and told me they were breaking up. It felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me, leaving me hanged in a space of confusion and heartache. I couldn't understand why they did not love each other anymore, or why I could not fix it. From that moment on, everything changed. I became a shadow of my former self, drifting through the halls of my school unnoticed and alone. The laughter of other kids echoed around me, but I could not find the strength to join in. It felt like I was trapped in a bubble of sadness, suffocating under the weight of my thoughts. The other students, especially my deskmate, Leonis, did not make it any easier. He and the others saw my silence as an opportunity to bully me, to tease me for being different. They called me names like the loner and the sad kid, and it felt like each word they said was a knife to my already wounded heart. I wanted to speak up, to tell them to stop, but the words got stuck in my throat, the tears filling my eyes while I could not cry. I felt like I was drowning in my sadness, and no one could throw me a hand to hold. At home, things were no better. I was now living with my grandparents, Hatixhe and Sabri. The once warm and loving atmosphere had turned cold and distant, like the smoke of a fire that had long since burned out. I missed the sound of my parents' laughter and the feeling of being wrapped in their warm hugs. Now, all I had were the voices of their arguments, the silent tears they thought I could not see. I tried to bury myself in books and video games,