Your favourite Gemini

[nourelhoudabakri]

"Hey, you found me. Let’s make it worth it. 🎯"

I’m Nour elhouda Bakri a med student with big dreams, late-night thoughts, and a notebook full of untold stories. This page? It’s where reality meets imagination.

Expect raw poetry, moments of clarity, and the occasional chaos of balancing life, adventure, and ambition. If you’re here for authenticity, inspiration, or just a vibe that hits, stick around.

Life’s too short for boring timelines. Let’s shake things up.

Drop a 🔥 if you’re with me.

Sharing the same ambitions with my friend @zemunskiseljak check her account.

[nourelhoudabakri]

From June 27th, 2024, to April 9th, 2026, my life changed in ways I never could have imagined. In less than two years, four moments marked me deeply each one shaping the person I am today.

The first event was on June 27th, 2024 the day my baccalaureate results came out. At the time, I truly believed it was the worst day of my life. I remember staring at the message with my score, unable to believe what I was seeing. It was far lower than I had ever imagined. In that moment, it felt like everything collapsed mmy plans, my dreams, especially my dream of becoming a doctor. I cried my eyes out, overwhelmed with disappointment and fear for my future. It felt like a final judgment on all my efforts. But life would later show me that this was only the beginning.

The second event happened on September 20th, 2025. By then, I was already studying abroad, still holding onto my dream. That day, I was riding a bicycle in the mountains when I suddenly lost control. The accident was brutal. I remember the shock, the pain, and how I couldn’t stop crying. But what hurt the most wasn’t just the physical injury it was the realization that I was completely alone. Not lonely, but truly alone. I didn’t understand the language of the people around me, and I had no family or friends by my side. At the hospital, they stitched my face without anesthesia. The pain was unbearable, but even worse was how cold everything felt the doctors, the nurses, the environment. That day left scars, both visible and invisible, and forced me to rely only on myself.

The third event came shortly after, around October 12th, 2025. It was a moment that changed the way I see people. I had a serious conflict with my roommate, someone I once trusted. What started with words quickly turned into something much worse. Her insults became aggressive, then physical. She hit me and even threatened to kill me. I was terrified. I called my father, and he told me to go to the police. I gathered the courage to speak up and report everything. But instead of finding protection, the situation turned against me. The police informed the owner of the house, and in the end, we were both forced to leave. Once again, I found myself alone, without support, in a moment where I needed it the most. That experience broke something in me, but it also made me stronger and more aware.

The fourth event happened on April 9th, 2026. It was quieter, but just as powerful. I was on a video call with my father, and as he told me he missed me, I saw something I had never seen before tears in his eyes. At first, I couldn’t believe it. My father, crying? He tried to hide it, but I noticed. In that moment, my heart broke in a completely different way. Not from pain or fear, but from love. I realized how much he cares, how much my absence affects him. After he ended the call, I sat there, overwhelmed. It hurt to see him like that, but it also filled me with gratitude. Because despite everything I had been through, I am lucky. I have parents who love me deeply, and that is something not everyone has.

These four moments changed me. They showed me disappointment, pain, fear, loneliness but also love, strength, and growth. In less than two years, I lived experiences that reshaped me completely. And now, at twenty, I understand that life is not defined by how perfect it is, but by how much we endure, learn, and continue moving forward.

[nourelhoudabakri]

I’m not the girl you fall in love with at first sight,

not at the second,

or the third,

or even the hundredth time.

I’ve always been the girl you enjoy talking to,

the one who is funny, kind,

the one you trust from the first moment.

People say that as much as I have a cute face,

a baby face,

I am just as pure on the inside.

Maybe that’s why people take advantage of me so easily.

They are never careful with my feelings,

never thinking about what I might feel,

because no matter what,

I will forgive them.

I’m a kind person.

I forgive.

But I never forget.

They say forgetting is a privilege,

but I don’t have that privilege.

I can keep talking to you casually,

like nothing ever happened,

but deep down

I remember everything

every time I see you.

That’s why I avoid eye contact.

Why I refuse to look where you are

where the people who hurt me stand.

I think it’s just how my body protects me,

a quiet instinct

a coping mechanism

keeping me safe,

helping me survive.

[nourelhoudabakri]

Roommates I survived (barely): Epilogue Season 2: The Chaos Returns… Worse

Summer came.

I went home.

Finally.

Sweet, sweet air.

Peace.

Life without yelling, endless lists, and emotional volcanoes.

Two days later…

Miss Main Character Syndrome went home too.

Coincidence? I think not.

For a moment… I thought the universe had mercy.

That maybe, just maybe, Season 1 had ended…

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Then… a call.

The Wilderness Creature.

“We should move out together next semester,” she said.

A simple sentence, if you ignore the entire history of chaos we survived.

Which meant only one thing:

Season 2.

And let me tell you… it was worse.

Worse because now:

- emotional explosions were faster

- the “talk before bed” marathon turned into psychological marathons

- dates, manipulation, and crying fits got upgraded

- and somehow, I got promoted from unpaid mother to emergency crisis manager™

I thought I knew chaos.

I thought I had survived.

I had been naïve.

Season 2? Oh… it’s not just survival.

It’s endurance.

It’s comedy.

It’s trauma dressed as a roommate experience.

And me?

I’m ready.

But also… terrified.

Stay tuned, Tumblr.

[nourelhoudabakri]

Roommates I survived (barely): Episode 7 Loyalty, Limits, and the Self-Care Awakening

The first year abroad?

A nightmare, a comedy, and a trauma documentary all rolled into one.

We missed our families.

We were navigating a new country.

We were surviving exams, bureaucracy, and somehow each other.

Then came the call.

Miss Main Character Syndrome’s mother called me.

And apparently, her daughter had no money for plane tickets.

She somehow convinced me…

that it was my moral duty to keep her from being alone.

And of course… I said yes.

Because apparently, being a good person requires living in chaos indefinitely.

That’s when The Wilderness Creature and I… bonded.

Not romantically.

Not intellectually.

Simply… through shared survival.

Whenever Miss Main Character Syndrome went on a date, The Wilderness Creature and I were left alone.

Movies. Walks. Endless commentary.

And she confessed every single day the latest thing Miss Main Character Syndrome had said about me.

Which, honestly… helped me understand her.

And also… confirmed: I was being talked about nonstop.

And that’s when I had a revelation.

“I am staying for her. And this is what she’s paying me.”

Which… yes. A little terrifying.

Also… wrong.

I decided:

No more.

I needed to go home.

Recharge.

Reclaim myself.

Remember what it was like to exist outside their universe of chaos and manipulation.

And just like that… I realized:

Loyalty is sacred.

But boundaries are survival.

And sometimes, staying for others means losing yourself entirely.

I packed my things.

I booked my ticket.

I left, not out of anger, not out of revenge…

but because for once, I chose me.

And honestly?

It was the best decision I ever made.

[nourelhoudabakri]

Roommates I survived (barely): Episode 6 When the Villain Met a Worse Villain

Just when I thought Miss Main Character Syndrome had reached her final form…

The universe said:

“Let me introduce you to someone worse.”

He was a manipulator.

Not the subtle kind.

Not the “you overthink things” kind.

No.

He was… efficient.

The type who looks at someone, identifies their insecurities, and goes:

“Yes. I will use that.”

He would tell her:

- what was wrong with her body

- what she should change

- what she “lacked”

Like he was giving a performance review she never asked for.

He told her she wasn’t his type…

but he was still with her.

(??)

We later found out he had a girlfriend back home.

Of course he did.

He told her he was better than her.

That his family was “on another level.”

Because his father was a doctor.

As if respect was genetic.

As if kindness skipped his DNA entirely.

And the craziest part?

She stayed.

The same girl who had a list of enemies for breathing wrong…

was now accepting emotional damage like it was part of the relationship package.

Every time she went on a date with him…

She came back different.

Silent.

Heavy.

She would go straight to bed, close the door, and disappear.

No talking.

No analyzing.

No “list.”

Just… shutdown.

And if you dared to speak to her in that state?

You would regret having vocal cords.

One day, The Wilderness Creature chose violence.

Not emotional violence.

Administrative violence.

She said:

“You need to pay the bills.”

Wrong timing.

Wrong moment.

Wrong universe.

Miss Main Character Syndrome didn’t respond.

She erupted.

Like a volcano that had been quietly collecting everything :

anger, humiliation, sadness, pride

and finally said:

“Now.”

And I stood there… once again…

watching.

Because at this point I understood something:

This was no longer just chaos.

This was what happens when:

- unhealed pain

meets

- unchecked ego

meets

- the wrong person at the worst time

And me?

Still in the middle.

Front row seat.

No ticket. No exit.

[nourelhoudabakri]

Roommates I survived (barely): Episode 5

The Day I Remembered I Exist

At some point… I changed.

Not dramatically.

Not loudly.

Just quietly… I stopped.

I stopped being:

- the therapist

- the unpaid mother

- the alarm clock

- the emotional support human

She would say: “let’s talk”

And I would say: “no ❤️”

Her mother would call 20 times.

I would not pick up on the 21st.

Revolution.

I started cooking… and only eating my food.

Cleaning… and only my mess.

Existing… but only for myself.

And for the first time since moving abroad,

I felt something new.

Peace.

But peace is suspicious.

So naturally, chaos returned.

One day… I broke.

Not crying. Not silent.

I yelled.

At both of them.

Months of emotional damage, unpaid labor, and sleep deprivation came out in one speech.

And I said it.

“I’m moving out.”

Silence.

The Wilderness Creature? Just watching.

As always. A documentary camera with legs.

But Miss Main Character Syndrome?

She cried.

And I froze.

Because in my head, she was never the one who cried.

She was the one who made people cry.

And suddenly she’s telling me:

“I came to this country for you.”

“You’re my only friend.”

“I can’t imagine my life if you betray me.”

Betray.

Not leave.

Not choose myself.

Not survive.

Betray.

And just like that…

I stayed.

(Yes. I know.)

But wait. There’s more.

Because Miss Main Character Syndrome had another talent.

Romance.

Or more specifically…

emotional multitasking.

She was talking to four guys.

Dating three.

Rejecting commitment from all of them…

while somehow giving each one hope like it was a subscription service.

And the craziest part?

They were obsessed.

First meeting:

“Can I get your number?”

Second meeting:

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Meanwhile me in the background like:

“Is there a spell? A potion? A tutorial?”

And then…

He appeared.

My favorite.

The one.

The final boss.

A player.

Not just any player.

A professional.

And for the first time…

Miss Main Character Syndrome met her match.

She fell.

Hard.

And him?

He did what she had been doing to others this entire time.

And left.

No closure.

No explanation.

Just vibes and emotional damage.

And I’m not saying it was karma…

But I am saying…

The universe has a sense of humor.

And me?

I was still there.

Living in this house.

Watching this story unfold.

Half roommate.

Half therapist.

Half audience.

Three halves. No rest.

But at least now I knew one thing:

I wasn’t crazy.

I was just surrounded.

[nourelhoudabakri]

Roommates I survived (barely): Episode 4 The Day I Realized I Was Not a Person (Just a Service)

There is something I need to confess.

At that time…

I was sensitive.

Not “aww that’s cute” sensitive.

I mean tears loading in 0.2 seconds sensitive.

And living in that house?

That was not an environment.

That was a stress test.

Every time Miss Main Character Syndrome yelled at me, or snapped, or decided I was the villain of the day…

I cried.

Not dramatically. Not for attention.

Just quietly.

Because at some point your body just says:

“Yeah… we’re not okay.”

And here’s the part that really stayed with me.

The Wilderness Creature yes, her

the one who didn’t clean, didn’t cook, didn’t believe in basic civilization…

Even she sometimes looked at Miss Main Character Syndrome and said:

“Maybe you should apologize.”

And for a second… just a second…

I would think:

“Wow. Growth. Humanity. Maybe this is it.”

And then she would say:

“I’m not her babysitter. If she cries, let her cry. I won’t apologize.”

Just like that.

No hesitation.

No reflection.

No “maybe I went too far.”

And something in me went very quiet after that.

Because it wasn’t about the argument anymore.

It was the realization that:

You can give your energy, your care, your time, your effort…

and for some people, it will never be enough to make them treat you gently.

So there I was.

Cleaning the house.

Cooking the food.

Waking them up every morning.

Listening every night.

Crying in between.

And still somehow being treated like…

I was the difficult one.

That’s when it hit me.

I wasn’t living with roommates.

I was living in a place where I slowly disappeared…

while still doing everything to keep it running.

And the craziest part?

I stayed.

[nourelhoudabakri]

Roommates I survived (barely): Episode 3 The Emotional Support Human Era

I survived one month.

One full month of being:

- a cleaner

- a cook

- an alarm clock

- and a single mother of two fully grown adults

And just when I thought things couldn’t evolve further…

Miss Main Character Syndrome unlocked a new personality.

Emotional mood swings.

And I don’t mean small ones.

I mean she could be laughing with you smiling, joking, sharing a moment

and exactly 2 minutes later…

She enters what I call:

box mode.

No emotions.

No reactions.

Just vibes… but evil.

You could say the most normal sentence like:

“Hey, can you pass me the water?”

And somehow it becomes:

a personal attack, a betrayal, and a lifelong grudge.

And that’s when I realized something very important:

She does not apologize.

Ever.

Not a single “sorry.”

Not even a “my bad.”

Not even eye contact that suggests self-awareness.

And appreciation?

A myth. A legend. A concept.

I could clean the entire house, cook, fix her life, raise her children, solve world hunger

and she would still act like I am just… part of the furniture.

But wait.

Nighttime was my favorite part. ❤️

Because every single night, before sleeping…

She would turn to me and say:

“Let’s talk.”

And by “talk,” she meant:

she talks. I listen.

For HOURS.

She would start from the moment she woke up:

“And then I saw this girl… and she looked at me weird… and I think she secretly hates me… so I added her to the list.”

Yes.

The list.

A constantly updated, highly detailed, emotionally driven list of people who have wronged her… sometimes by just existing.

She analyzed everyone.

Their tone. Their face. Their breathing patterns.

Nothing escaped her.

Meanwhile me, lying there like:

“I just wanted to sleep.”

And the craziest part?

From far away… she looked terrifying.

Like actually.

She always had this expression like she was either:

- judging you

- plotting something

- or deciding if you belong on the list

And I used to think:

“Wow… she looks like she could kill someone.”

Now I was thinking:

“Oh.

So it’s not just a look.”

[nourelhoudabakri]

Roommates I survived (barely): Episode 2

I Became a Single Mother Overnight

The first two months of living with Miss Main Character Syndrome were… peaceful.

And by peaceful, I mean:

I wasn’t the one being yelled at yet.

Every time her mom called, it turned into a live concert.

Screaming, arguing, emotional damage Dolby surround sound.

And somehow… her mother got my number.

Which means when her daughter didn’t answer, she called me.

Not once. Not twice.

Twenty times.

And because I am unfortunately a “good person” with anxiety, I picked up on the 21st call.

Big mistake.

Because that was not a phone call.

That was a 2-hour podcast episode I did not subscribe to.

I would sit there like:

“mhm… yes… I see…”

while mentally leaving my body.

But in between the chaos, I started noticing things.

Miss Main Character Syndrome had a soft spot she pretended didn’t exist.

Her family clearly favored her older brother.

And she would say it like it didn’t hurt her.

Like it was just a “fun fact.”

It wasn’t.

And I saw it.

(Yes, I am funny. Yes, I am also emotionally intelligent. Multitasking.)

Anyway.

Just when I thought I understood the level of chaos…

life said: upgrade available.

We moved again.

And that’s when she entered.

The Wilderness Creature.

Now listen… I thought Miss Main Character Syndrome was my challenge.

I was WRONG.

The Wilderness Creature was not just a roommate.

She was… an experience.

Things were everywhere.

And when I say everywhere, I mean things that should never be seen publicly…

were living their best life in shared spaces.

Cleaning? Optional.

Cooking? A myth.

Basic survival hygiene? Negotiable.

She would not wash anything unless we told her.

Not once.

Not twice.

At least five times.

Like we were sending reminders for a subscription she didn’t sign up for.

So naturally, me and Miss Main Character Syndrome became… parents.

We cleaned.

We cooked.

We maintained civilization.

Until one day…

Miss Main Character Syndrome snapped.

And instead of solving the problem like a normal human being…

she said:

“What if I become the problem?”

And just like that, she stopped doing everything.

Which left…

Me.

Alone.

In a house with two fully grown adults who had collectively decided that responsibilities were a social construct.

I became:

- the cleaner

- the cook

- the emotional support system

- and, for some reason,

- the human alarm clock

Every morning I was waking them up like:

“Girls please… education… future… survival…”

No salary.

No appreciation.

Just vibes and suffering.

At some point I realized…

I did not move abroad for medical school.

I moved abroad to raise two children I did not give birth to.

[nourelhoudabakri]

Roommates I survived (barely): Episode 1 The Foreshadowing Was Loud

I met her in a cours particuliers de math during our baccalauréat year, which in itself should’ve been a warning. Nothing good ever starts in a room full of stressed teenagers pretending to understand derivatives.

She was smart.

Like… smart smart.

Or at least confident enough to make it seem like she had personally invented mathematics.

And listen, I’m not saying I was better than her… but if this was a competition, I was not losing.

She had this energy.

The way she talked, the way she occupied space.

Like every sentence she said was a TED Talk nobody asked for.

And of course, she was “the attractive one.”

Skinny, long black hair, big eyes, eyeliner so long it could point you toward your future.

Thin eyebrows ,not naturally, but by choice. A commitment to an aesthetic. I respected the dedication. I feared the mindset.

We got closer.

She started coming over to my house to study.

Looking back… that was the beginning of the end.

After the bac results (which we will NOT discuss for legal reasons), we both decided to go study medical school abroad. Together.

Yes. Together.

My mother, a woman of intuition and experience, looked me in the eyes and basically said:

“Don’t.”

Not aggressively. Not dramatically.

Just a calm, wise don’t.

Did I listen?

Of course not. ❤️

Because at the time, I thought:

“What could possibly go wrong?”

Then came the administrative process.

The agency. The paperwork. The meetings.

And most importantly…

her family.

Specifically, her mother.

Now when I say talkative, I don’t mean “likes conversation.”

I mean a woman who could have an opinion about oxygen if you gave her 30 seconds.

Every phone call between them was a live performance.

You didn’t listen , you witnessed.

My future roommate would go from 0 to yelling in under 3 minutes.

Like it was muscle memory.

And me? Sitting there, quietly, like:

“Ah. So this is the environment that shaped her.”

It was at that moment…

very small, very subtle…

that my soul whispered:

“Good luck.”

[nourelhoudabakri]

🎬 Roommates: The Saga – Season 1 Trailer 🎬

Three girls.

One apartment.

Zero sanity.

Meet Miss Main Character Syndrome:

- Genius + emotional volcano

- 2-hour nightly talks about everyone she hates

- Can switch from laughing to box mode in 2 minutes

Meet The Wilderness Creature:

- Human tornado disguised as a roommate

- Laundry optional, hygiene optional, chaos mandatory

- Expert in passive destruction

And then… there’s me:

- The unpaid mother

- Alarm clock, cook, cleaner, therapist

- Living in a 24/7 reality show I never signed up for

Expect:

- Endless yelling marathons

- Manipulation, mood swings, and crying fits

- Multi-level romantic chaos

- The slow realization that sometimes… survival = self-preservation

Season 1?

I survived.

Barely.

Read Episode 1.

And welcome to the saga.

[siratonin]

"I CANT HANDLE THIS" *handles this*

[siratonin]

"I CANT TAKE ANOTHER DAY" *takes another day*

[nourelhoudabakri]

Here I am, after basically a year of no writing.

No facing my feelings.

My thoughts.

I stopped talking to myself.

I stopped asking myself how I am.

I stopped telling myself that I’m okay.

I am just living, breathing,

thinking but not listening to my own thoughts.

They just fly into my mind and out of it

without a single feeling.

I stopped remembering the details

of things that happened to me.

I stopped writing because writing meant I knew what I felt.

I knew how to face it.

I knew how to live with it.

I knew that I would overcome it.

Writing it meant I wanted to remember

how I felt once again.

I didn’t want to remember anything,

so I just let go of it

of everything that made me feel unseen,

unhappy,

and insecure.

Things just kept getting more and more chaotic.

People kept being more and more mean.

Events kept getting harder and harder to live through.

I kept thinking if God thought that I might be stronger

than I believed I was.

The people I trusted most showed me versions of themselves

that I never thought I would see or face.

Living alone in this world is harder than I thought.

Lonelier.

Scarier.

It makes you feel lost,

like a penguin without a family

in the darkest and coldest night,

trying to find a group nonstop,

because finding penguins to hug in that moment

means he is seen, safe,

and that he can figure this out.

Just some validation.

Words of encouragement.

Little taps on the back.

A kiss on the forehead.

A dad by my side.

A mother on the other side.

It would just feel less scary,

less lost.

Living alone in this world makes you feel empty,

like a body without a soul

in the scariest graveyard.

Even souls aren’t as lonely as I am.

Even penguins have other penguins to hug.

But I haven’t felt the touch

or the warmth of someone

for six months.

[nourelhoudabakri]

They say

when you leave your country,

your family,

your friends,

your home…

and move abroad,

into a house you build to look like the one you left behind

you don’t really have a home anymore.

Not really.

The home you left?

It becomes a stranger.

Familiar walls now echo in a language you forgot.

Even your family

they start to treat you like a guest.

The once-a-year kind.

The once-a-call-a-day kind.

The “Are you still breathing?” kind.

A voice on a screen.

A smile that says “I’m fine”,

when you’re everything but.

And the home you build?

Always feels like a copy.

It’s quiet in all the wrong ways.

It smells like nothing.

Feels like nothing.

And it’s missing… everything.

The scent of your mother’s cooking.

The deep rumble of your father’s voice.

The chaos of your siblings laughing down the hall.

You can't recreate that warmth.

You can’t order it online.

You can’t fake it with fairy lights and candles.

And now

now that I have no home,

can you stop asking me

if I’m okay?

Because I’m not.

And maybe…

I never will be.

No one told me the truth before I left.

No one said that “growing” could feel this lonely.

That independence could taste like absence.

That freedom could feel so much like floating in space

untethered, unseen,

unheard.

So no

I’m not okay.

But I’m here.

And sometimes,

maybe that’s enough.

[nourelhoudabakri]

I hate complicated feelings and thoughts.

I’m not someone who hides their emotions you told me to be brave and show affection, so here I am, doing what I usually avoid: making the first step.

I hate to admit it, but I really like you… maybe even love you. Or maybe it’s not love yet, but the feelings are definitely there. And they’ve been there since the beginning.

I get upset when people talk badly about you or bring up mistakes it’s like I want to protect you. I trust you so much that even if I saw you with my own eyes doing something terrible… I think part of me still wouldn’t believe it.

I’m not telling you this to pressure you or make you uncomfortable. Maybe you don’t feel the same way and that’s okay. I’ve gotten used to quietly admiring you, from a distance. I usually enjoy the feeling even if it’s one-sided.

It’s just… my eyes can’t hide it anymore, and I needed to let you know.

[nourelhoudabakri]

They say

when you leave your country,

your family,

your friends,

your home…

and move abroad,

into a house you build to look like the one you left behind

you don’t really have a home anymore.

Not really.

The home you left?

It becomes a stranger.

Familiar walls now echo in a language you forgot.

Even your family

they start to treat you like a guest.

The once-a-year kind.

The once-a-call-a-day kind.

The “Are you still breathing?” kind.

A voice on a screen.

A smile that says “I’m fine”,

when you’re everything but.

And the home you build?

Always feels like a copy.

It’s quiet in all the wrong ways.

It smells like nothing.

Feels like nothing.

And it’s missing… everything.

The scent of your mother’s cooking.

The deep rumble of your father’s voice.

The chaos of your siblings laughing down the hall.

You can't recreate that warmth.

You can’t order it online.

You can’t fake it with fairy lights and candles.

And now

now that I have no home,

can you stop asking me

if I’m okay?

Because I’m not.

And maybe…

I never will be.

No one told me the truth before I left.

No one said that “growing” could feel this lonely.

That independence could taste like absence.

That freedom could feel so much like floating in space

untethered, unseen,

unheard.

So no

I’m not okay.

But I’m here.

And sometimes,

maybe that’s enough.