Who am i? Who is Souheil Al Accad?

When people talk about chasing the “American Dream,” they rarely imagine it starting on a small, overcrowded boat in the middle of the ocean. But for Souheil, a 19-year-old refugee, that’s exactly where his journey began—a desperate leap toward survival that turned into a 68-day nightmare lost at sea.

Souheil grew up in a village torn apart by war. He doesn’t talk much about the violence he saw—about the friends who vanished, or the day he realized home was no longer safe. What he will tell you is this: “Staying meant dying. Leaving meant maybe living. I took the maybe.”

With everything he had—some bread, a bottle of water, and a plastic bag of family photos—he boarded a makeshift boat along with 27 others. They were packed shoulder to shoulder, floating into the unknown. The plan was simple: make it to Europe, find a safe route, then somehow get to the United States.

But the sea doesn’t care about your plans.

A storm on the fourth night changed everything. The boat capsized. Some didn’t make it. Souheil clung to a piece of debris—alone, cold, and drifting into nowhere. What followed was a blur of sunburn, hunger, hallucinations, and silence. Sixty-eight days. No land in sight. No fresh water. Just sky, salt, and the stubborn will to keep breathing.

A passing cargo ship finally spotted him—thin as a skeleton, barely conscious. When he woke up in a hospital, the nurse holding his hand said, “You’re safe now.” He didn’t believe it at first. Safety felt like a dream, and dreams had betrayed him before.

Fast forward three years: Souheil lives in the U.S. now. He works in a small diner during the day and takes ESL classes at night. He sends money back to the only family he has left. He’s not famous. He’s not rich. But every morning he wakes up, stretches out in his tiny apartment, and smiles.

“I didn’t come here for luxury,” he says. “I came here to live without fear.”

His story isn’t just one of survival—it’s a reminder that the path to safety and dignity is anything but smooth. It’s uncomfortable, often invisible, and filled with moments that most of us can’t even imagine. But people like Souheil live it. And they deserve more than pity or politics—they deserve to be seen.

Next time someone says, “Why don’t they just come here the right way?”—think of Souheil. Think of 68 days. And maybe, just maybe, lead with empathy instead of judgment.