12:32 AM on Saturday.
If you remember, dear reader, my last post consisted of me making an agreement with myself that I would stick it out to Friday of the first week of class and then see if I want to drop out and go home, take a leave, or to stay here.
Welp, I'm still here.
Let me explain a bit (I will anyway so just keep reading):
This week has been full of ups and downs. Sometimes I look back on it, and it seems to have gone by soooo slowly, each moment ticking slower than the one before it. And then other times, it speeds up so incredibly fast that I have to do a double take.
Classes have gone fairly well thus far. I have only male teachers (and I'm sure my female/homosexual readers would like to know that one is very sexy indeed). The classes involve a lot of reading from all different areas, and several projects that look quite compelling. Except French. It's been 2 years since I've spoken French and I threw myself into an Intermediate class where the teacher likes to speak francais 100% du temps (of the time). It's frustrating.
I haven't done much social event stuff, but I have made some friends that I chill with or just have breakfast with. It's fun.
Nights seem to be the hardest part of this process. I miss my mom, my dogs, my nephews, my comfortable bed, and sometimes even my brothers ( :P ).
I still feel lonely because most of the time I am alone in a crowd of people. When by myself and alone, I'm perfectly fine. But to be the odd man out, it frightens me. I don't like being alone.
There's ups and there's downs.
Tuesday night, I called my mom crying and ready to pack my things and head home. She told me to go ask my RA the steps for going home after I took a shower. Sometime before I made it out of my room, I called her back and said that I would give it til the end of the week.
Come Wednesday afternoon, I had my Creative Writing course. Lately, I haven't felt much like writing. All these ideas, no desire to sit down and do it. However, my professor gave us the assignment to sit quietly and write whatever we felt like.
And so I did.
And because this blog is for my writing, I decided to actually post writing tonight. So here's what I wrote.
“Run!” they shouted loudly. “Hurry!”
The men in boots stormed through the house, pushing my family along.
“Pack your things!” they yelled. “Quickly!”
Their harsh German accents were loud, harsh. My instinct was to fight back, but common sense told me that that would only land me in a mass grave.
Quickly, I grabbed the suitcase that I had intended to use when I ran away with Linda. Throwing clothes in, I allowed myself to say good-bye to her in my soul. They said that Jews never came back when they were relocated. I would never see my beauty again.
Across the hall, I heard my father whisper for my mother to hide the few family heirlooms we still had in her apron pocket. The Nazi’s would only steal it for themselves when they ransacked our home after we left. Silently, tears rolling down her cheeks, she did as she was told.
It took less than five minutes before we were standing in front of what had once been our home, in a massive crowd of other star-wearing neighbors. We held hands through the streets as the soldiers marched us to the train station.
We passed by Linda’s home, but I couldn’t bear to see if she was at that window where we had fallen in love so short a time ago. Did she see me? Was she crying at the sight of so many Jews on the way to slaughter?
Onto the train, we piled, hearing the Nazi’s German shouted. Many of us wept, others prayed. The cattle doors shut behind us and we were locked in darkness.
There was no room to sit, to breathe. We could only stand, packed tightly together. My mother and father were on either side of me, frozen with fear. The train began pulling away and there were shouts from all around as we lurched forward.
So many sweating bodies of so many ages quickly began smelling. My neighbors constantly knocked into me with each bump in the track. The prayers and shouts continuing, asking for God or the Germans to save our lives.
But all I could seem to think of was Linda.
It was funny how quickly I caught sight of Paul in the sea of faces.
Just moments before, I had been awoken from my slumber by the harsh shouting just outside the house. Flying to the window, I saw them coming.
Both my enemy and my greatest love.
The soldiers marched them through the town for us all to see the “traitors to humankind”. They were taking them to the last train ride of their lives.
But there was Paul—tall and strong amongst the frightened. He held tightly to his mother and father, whom I’d only seen from afar. He did not look at me, but I could not take my gaze off of him until they turned a corner and were out of sight.
With nothing more than my nightgown on, I sprinted from my room, down the staircase and out the front door. I saw my father, dressed in his finest watching the last of the Jews walking to their death.
“Where are they going?” I asked, although I knew perfectly well.
My father, standing tall and still, took a long moment to answer.
“They are being relocated to a more suitable area for their kind.”
Just a few weeks ago, I would have believed him thoroughly. Before I met Paul, before I learned what it was like to be amongst the Jewish community, before I fell in love and began to have an opinion of my own.
But now I knew better.
“It is the way of the world of my child.” He turned to face me, keeping his face straight. “This evening I will be leaving to oversee their new community. To assure it is to their liking.”
“Your mother and you will be going on holiday until I return.”
“Enough Linda. You do as you’re told.”
“But Papa, I would so much enjoy to see their new community.” He looked suspicous at this and I scrambled for reasoning. “I would like to better understand how to accomplish the Aryan quest. To make a better world.”
He considered this for a few moments. The streets outside had cleared so quickly after the Death March had left that you wouldn’t have known it had happened if you weren’t there. That was the Hitler’s master plan, wasn’t it? To make it seem like the Jews had never been here in the first place.
“Very well, Lise. You will accompany me for a few days. But while we are there, you are to speak to no one and to do exactly as told. Do you understand?”
“Go get ready. We will leave after supper.”
I practically ran to my room, giddy with excitement. A plan had formed in my head.
While my father worked, I would disguise myself and find a way to Paul. From there, we could run away to the United States together. Never having to worry about Hitler or his supreme race again.
Two star-crossed lovers would be reunited once more.
Of course some details have been changed for copyright purposes, but there we have it. I had to read mine aloud to the class (3 of the class of 14 did).
My professor called it both "chilling" and "inspiring". It earned a stamp of approval from a professor who is a published author.
This gave me the spark of confidence that I needed so desperately. I needed to know that I could do this writing thing, that THIS is the reason I came to the school in the first place.
Everything just seems so much better now. It's going to continue going through ups and downs, but I know now why I came to this school. Why I'm being taken from my family and made to go through this struggle.
I can do it. I'm staying until at least the end of the semester, and then we'll see what happens from there.
For a bit of housekeeping, I would like to thank all of my friends that have been so supportive of me during the last few difficult weeks. You have no idea how much this means to me.
However, to the young person who continues to e-mail and attempt to contact me, PLEASE leave me alone. If you choose to continue reading my blog (not recommended), then no more comments. They're rather annoying and I don't need you in my life. The answer will always be no. Thank you.
I always seem to apologize for long posts, but then again most of my posts are long. I figure it makes up for my gaps in actually posting them. So, I hope you enjoyed this time with me. I sure did.