HeyJaredElham Sarikhani
This is a sanctuary for the exiled soul, raw truths, shadow wisdom, and fierce beauty for those who refuse false healing. I write from the wound, the vision, and the fire. Psychology, exile, divinity, and the unbearable grace of becoming real.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 10
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- Sep 6, 2026
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- Jul 3, 2026
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The Sea Almost Took Me and I Still Reached Up (opens the original)
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I was fourteen when the ground disappeared.One second my sisters were laughing. The next, the sea had my ankles and the sun was only a rumor above me. I remember how fast blue turns black.I pushed upward.Saw their faces for half a second.They thought I was joking.I found that funny, even then. The second stretched out wide.There came the quiet thought.So this is it.This is the end. And I meant it calmly.The panic quit before the dark water did. like dropping a wet coat you're sick of carrying, a
What Americans Do With the Freedom Iranians Never Had (opens the original)
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I lived in Iran for almost thirty years, and one of the things you learn there very early is that politics is not somewhere else.It can be in how you dress. In what you say at work. In whether you lower your voice when someone unfamiliar sits nearby. In whether you think twice before carrying a certain book. After enough years, some of this becomes so normal that you forget how much of your attention it takes.People outside Iran sometimes ask why people do not resist more. Why they do not simply
My Father Asked Me to Go Watch Netanyahu Stand Trial (opens the original)
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I am an exile in Holland. I have used this phrase so many times that it sounds almost bureaucratic, as if something you write in forms. But there are days when the meaning in it becomes clear for me.The first several months of war, when the internet was down, connecting with my parents depended on luck. Suddenly, it started working or seemed to start working and I called before this lucky window shut again. Sometimes my call did not ring. Sometimes we could connect but the sound quality was bad.
You Built Yourself to Survive Now You’re Too Tired to Stop (opens the original)
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I have lived most of my life expecting it to end soon.At twenty-four I did not imagine forty. At thirty I did not imagine thirty-five. Even last year, some quiet part of me kept the horizon close. Distance after all, is a luxury item. I have been wrong every time. I am still here.There is a particular way of living when you assume time is short. You don’t drift into daydreaming. You conserve your dignity the way some Dutch conserve money. You learn to stay present because the future feels hypoth
How Long Can a Country Hold Its Breath (opens the original)
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This morning I checked Telegram while I was still in bed. The light had just started coming through the curtains. Two young men were on my screen. I did not know them.Since January, this has happened almost every week. Two people, sometimes three. Many of them look so young that I read the news several times before I accept that they are dead. Their faces show nothing that corresponds to what is written underneath. I keep thinking there must be an error.Arrested. Sentenced. Executed. Then a coup
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