The moment I realised that I have to compromise my status as a Libyan abroad wasn’t in 2005, the year that I arrived to England, but in late 2013, when I realised that my destiny is to go anywhere but back. Up until then I have always considered myself as Libyan writer in exile, a temporary one, with all its sufferings and cliches. But since I realised that exile is a state of uncertainty it was about time to reconcile with my original decision not to integrate with the British society, and to dig deeper than what the surface could offer for a foreigner writer. I was living in London, and I recently quit my job as an investigative journalist for an online magazine, dedicated to present a new media platform for a society that isn't capable to deal with open discussion. During my experience working and interviewing a wide number of people to present essays and reports in subjects many have considered margin and sometimes unnecessary, I figured out that it’s a matter of time until eve...