by Teodora C.

I was waken up by the glorious  sunlight shining on my face through the window. It was beautiful, so I shut the drapes. I didn’t want anything to do with this day. I wanted to just skip it. But that hope went away the second my grandfather came in with a stack of pancackes singing “Happy Birthday”. I wanted to just crawl under the covers and sleep, but the smile on his face wouldn’t let me. We went downstairs and ate the pancackes (they were good, can’t argue with that) and was about to go back to my room, when my grandpa said “Go get dressed and meet me at the car when you’re ready”. Every single muscle of my body was saying “No”!!!! but I pretty much had no other option, so I changed and, about an hour later, I was standing in the passenger seat of my grandfather’s pick-up truck. He sat next to me and we drove for a while, and I was relieved that all this time we didn’t say a word. I was clearly not in the mood, and my grandpa seemed to understand that.

And so, after two muffins and about half an hour of driving, we arrived at what seemed to be some kind of small forest. He got out of the car and took out a basket from the backseat. He signaled me to follow him, so I did. We walked for a while through the woods, until we got to a small cliff. We sat there and my grandfather put his arm around my shoulder and gently said:

“I used to bring your mother here back when she was your age.” A tear rolled down my cheek, as I said with a shaky voice: “Thank you, and held him tight. It was the first birthday since my parents passed away, and he somehow managed to make it the best. And I sat there, happy to receive the best gift I could’ve ever hoped for.

by Teodora P.

There are some moments when you start losing yourself simply because you’ve been someone else for such a long time. And you can’t tell people around you what’s wrong because it’s hard watching them not knowing what to do. But somewhere is this world, your story is someone’s survival guide – a gift you constantly have to shape.

I was there, in front of the classroom with my body completely freezing, my mind still fighting to get out of the bunch of thoughts flying round and round. I could feel all my classmates staring at me and waiting for my answer to finally show up on the board, or just for me to say something. I gave them a brief look and curled my fingers around my waist tightly, then decided to write some of the words found on the paper I was holding in my hand. And all of a sudden some kind of wave hit me right in the face and I whispered: `I can’t go on. I…I can’t do it.` No one could hear me, so I took a short breath, writing again a few more letters. I kept telling myself to stay there, but all I’d been listening to since I got there were their laughters, their loud, though faded voices. Then, another breeze hit me, this time harder. I leaned on the board and dropped on my knees dizzily. I managed to hear some of people behind me saying `Maybe she’s too tired.`, `She doesn’t know how to do it.` A little tear fell down my cheek, burning. While trying to wipe it carefully, the wave punched me one more time. I took a deep breath. I breathed twice – it hurt. One more breath – a warm voice embraced me, taking me back to that place, now deeply silent.

`Whenever the thought that you can’t do it comes to your mind, remember what your most precious gift – is your voice. It’s right there, in your soul, in your body, in your being.`

There are some moments when you start losing yourself simply because you’ve been someone else for such a long time. And even if it’s hard to talk with people around you, there will be someone to hear your words even when you’re quiet. My gift was still there, waiting for me to open it. I just needed to remember that my voice is what makes me who I am.