Dear budding writers,
I think that writing is a good way to talk about feelings and life. Here is my twenty-fourth short story, enjoy reading!
The meaning of life.
November 18, 1995.
Eva is seven years old. She has just celebrated her birthday with her family and wished a good night to everyone before going to bed. Her grandparents offered her a diary with a lock so she can write her secrets and her dreams. Once sure that her parents are sleeping, Eva turns on her flashlight and opens her diary, hidden under her blanket. She decided to write a letter to herself and read it again in ten years.
When you will read this letter again, you will be 17. You will be a big girl but not an adult yet. Granny told me that adulthood begins at age 18 but she also said that some adults remain big kids. I think she is right because she keeps calling Mum “her baby” whereas Mum is 37 years old already, that’s funny. I thought that we stopped being a baby as soon as we were able to walk. But the other day, my clumsy big brother fell off his bike and hurt his knee, he was bleeding. I also cried a little because I am afraid of blood. Mum desinfected the wound with Betadine and asked Nathan to stop whining like a baby because it stung. Dad laughed and said Nathan had the right to express his emotions and it was not a shame to cry at age 9. Against all odds, Nathan immediately dried his tears and said he would never cry again, except for very serious and very sad things. Mum gave him a kiss and told him he was perfectly right. I asked her if I had to stop to cry too, and she told me that we had to keep our tears for real tragedies in life. Dad told her she was exaggerating and that we were just kids. But Mum said she wanted to prepare us to face real life. I don’t know exactly what it really means, we will continue this conversation in ten years, when I get a little older. See you soon.
November 18, 2005.
Today I turned 17. Arthur Rimbaud said that we are not serious when we are seventeen. Yet I feel I have always been too serious in my life. I have never done anything like the others. When I was seven years old, I already knew how to write complex words without mispelling because Granny taught me to read when I was 4 and Mum has always encouraged me to read a lot of books. That’s why I skipped one grade and I got my high school diploma this summer. This year, I study literature and philosophy but I don’t know where it will lead me. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I like reading for pleasure, not for writing essays! I don’t know if I will be able to hold out during two long years, it already bores me… To answer the question you asked me ten years ago, I still don’t know much about life. I have the feeling that everything is formatted and that everyone must follow a clear path. School began only one month ago but I feel like I didn’t get on the right track. How are you supposed to know what you want to become at seventeen? I would like to be able to influence the world and become a model for society. I know this is both ambitious and very vague. What is real life? I’ll try to give you an answer in ten years. Bear up and do something! See you soon.
November 18, 2015.
Today I’m 27 years old. How time flies! Something in my perception of life has changed. Last Friday night, a hundred lives were massacred by terrorist attacks in Paris. When I think back to those tragic, cruel, inhuman and bloody events, I have tears in my eyes and I feel like howling out my distress by seeing this necrotic world crumbling under our eyes. The day following the attacks, I had almost lost faith in humanity, I wanted to disappear. Then I had an awareness. The authors of these barbaric killings were simply not human. They wanted to spread terror and make us lose the taste for life. They wanted to prevent us from being happy. I thought and told myself that in deference to all those innocents murdered, those who survived should keep their heads up, move forward and enjoy life to its fullest. By continuing to live and have fun, we would not let them win. I assured all my relatives who were worried about me. I realized that we have only one life and that everything can stop overnight. It’s important to do things we love, to spend time with people dear to our hearts and enjoy every second of our existence. Luckily, I lost no one during these dark events and I am in perfect health. Today I’m a journalist for a women’s magazine and I agreed to share with our readers my testimony and my feelings about the attacks. I don’t consider myself as a model but I’m happy to act as a spokesperson in the team of our magazine, to continue to defend freedom of expression and to reassure people of my generation about the future of our society. And this is already something. Dear little Eva of my childhood, all I can tell you is that living your life means knowing who you are, defending and believing in your values, being able to share your vision of the world without harming others, working to do what you love, evolving while remaining true to yourself and listening to your heart. Life has its share of shadows and light. The important thing is to keep the faith, hope and love. If you have that, you will be able to face anything. See you soon.
Hope you enjoyed this short story. Hugs 🙂