So last night I woke up at 4am. My body clock set to wake up at 6.30 for work had been disrupted by a thought that must have come to me while sleeping. Something had disturbed me from the past. When I was really young, I'm talking barely able to speak young. I remembered how when I was that small I used to feel fear when my parents would leave me in that dark room to fall asleep alone. I used to kick up a fuss crying because I was genuinely scared. So my father taught me the old Christian prayer in Aramaic. I did not understand it but it became a regular thing, together before I would sleep me and my father would pray. It would calm me down, eliminate my fear and allow me to ease into the sleep. One day my dad had friends over, it was my bedtime, I remember going up to him saying dad it's time for us to pray, he turned to his friends and said in a sarcastic way "guys excuse me we have a little Holy man over here". I was really small but I understood the sarcasm. After that time I stopped calling for my dad to pray with me but continued with the prayer every night alone. And throughout my entire life I have been praying in that way before bed. Through my childhood, teenage years and even now as a 32 year old man I still do it. Not every night but often. I sat their in my bed reminiscing this and I cracked. I couldn't hold back the tears and I cried to myself. The environment I grew up surrounded by Muslims, I thought how nice it is how they pray together as grown men. If I asked my father to pray with me now he would think I've gone donkeynuts crazy. I sat their alone in the dark a fully grown man crying. I impulsively wanted a hug........ but then I realized, hug what? A woman? Hell, if a woman saw this she would be disgusted by me. She wouldn't be able to comprehend. A hug....... I felt like I needed one but then how would it help........ it wouldn't. I pulled out my phone and wrote this for you. Afterwards I put my hands together and commenced with that old Aramaic prayer.