A week in the diary of Judah al-Khalaileh (as told by him)
Day One
I woke up early; a traitor must always be one step ahead. I looked in the mirror and didn’t see my own face, but rather a smiling face of self-interest. I convinced myself that betrayal is intelligence, and that principles are a luxury unworthy of someone who only wants to survive.
Day Two
I shook hands with the man I had betrayed the day before. I told him, “Times are harsh,” and he believed me. Betrayal, when presented in a gentle tone, becomes advice; when cloaked in slogans, it becomes politics.
Day Three
They called me a mediator. I love that word; it softens the blow. A mediator is not condemned, but thanked. I convinced the crowd that I was a bridge, without telling them that bridges are sometimes built only to be blown up.
Day Four
I wrote a statement about morality. No one doubts those who talk about it a lot. Baseness is clever; it disguises itself in preaching and demands applause instead of accountability.
Day Five
I learned to change my mind faster than the wind. Steadfastness is a burden, loyalty is a long memory, and I don’t like memories. The more I forget, the more I gain.
Day Six
I accused others of what I did. A tried and tested weapon: when you call the traitor a traitor before you do, you emerge innocent. Baseness isn’t a single act; it’s a complete defense system.
Day Seven
I sat alone. Silence is a mirror that doesn’t flatter. I realized I had gained everything and lost myself. But it’s alright, a traitor doesn’t need a soul, he just needs a signature at the right moment.
Conclusion
These are not confessions, but rather a testament to my actions. If you see someone like me, know that betrayal never dies, but merely changes its name. As for me, Judah al-Khalil, I live long because memory is short, and because some prefer immediate gain to lasting dignity.