What does it mean to be a patriot? Many people have Ideas of what it means. But I believe right now many people are confused. With the recent assassination attempt of former president Donald trump, it brought to light the very distinct beliefs of many people. Some people might think that he was just messed up or maybe his decision was induced by drugs or peer pressure. But I believe he knew what he was doing. Everyone has their own beliefs although some are wrong, they still believe them. Some with powerful zealous. I know captain America isn't the most influential person in the world, but he said something that resembles my thoughts exactly for this man Thomas crooks. In a conversation he was talking to maria hill when she called the twins nuts for letting a scientist experiment on them. Captain answered with “right who would let a German scientist experiment on them to help protect their country.” Maria hill replies with “were not at war captain” “they are” was his response. Did you catch that? He told her that their zealousness was the reason they did it. It was because of their love for their country that they would go to such lengths. Crooks shouldn't have done what he did but he did it because he thought it was for the best. He didn't think trump was the best thing for his country and when he deduce trump was going to win the election. He decided to take things into his own young and capable hands. He knew it would most likely mean his life would end but he was willing to sacrifice his life because of what he thought was right. I by no means am happy about the assassination attempt. But I do know everything happens for a reason. I know God has a plan for trump and for Thomas's family although they might not see it yet. Ok back to patriotism. So obviously trying to kill the former president isn't what patriotism is, I think we all can agree. So what is it then. I believe it is knowing what the founding fathers meant when they created the constitution. Why they made it and why they created this country in the first place. What are the answers to these questions? Well, they created the constitution to protect our freedoms to keep our country inline. to remind us of why they created this amazing country we are fortunate to live in. They wanted us to have the freedom they didn't have when under British rule. They wanted us to know our worth and to know how great of a people we could be if under God. They wanted to show the world how strong we can be when united as one nation. They knew how to work together, to communicate and to sacrifice all they had for the good of all people. There are people in this country who are accusing the founding fathers and other historic men/women, of genocide. However, we know that without sacrifice there is no reward. Yes, the American forefathers' hands were dripping in the blood of men who fought against there freedom. But they did it to protect the lives of millions of others. Evey country has blood stains that can't go away, no matter how hard you scrub. True patriots should know the history of your country. Why we believe in what we believe in and why others believe what they believe. Being a patriot doesn't only mean wearing a don't tread on me shirt or a I plead the 2nd although exhibiting freedom of speech is definitely needed at times. We need a filter, something that tells us what is acceptable and what is not. That is why we have laws and morals and the knowledge of right or wrong. Some men and women have abused this filter turning off crucial factors in it. I as a Christian have the holy spirit to filter my thoughts and feelings to give me control over my actions and irrational decisions. That is why the founding fathers called us “one nation under God.” They knew without him this nation wouldn't stand. That is why I believe our country is falling at a rash and horrifying speed. We got rid of our filter. Being a patriot is not about killing for what you think is right it is standing for freedom, not only for yourself but for your family and whole nation. Not backing down when they press you against the wall hoping you will lose your beliefs and faith in the creator of the world and people you are fighting for. That is what being a true patriot means. Stand strong, hold fast, and keep believing.

1- My 1- love 2- for you 3- has kept growing, 5- continues soaring to new heights, 8- and will never stop expanding to galactic scales. 13- As the Fibonacci sequence tends to infinity, so does my love encompass eternity. I could read his letter repeatedly and still wonder how his words are reflected in his actions. We have been romantically together for almost two years now, yet I keep falling in love with him every single day. I never thought that I would feel this kind of love in my whole life- a love that's selfless, worth fighting for, inspiring, something that teaches me to be a better person everyday. A great blessing that I consider is to have that love be reciprocated and even more. I am writing this short story for us. Someday, we may go back to this page and be reminded of our beautiful love that I believe is worth a story to tell. Our story begins in a simple first meeting at a McDonald's branch in Kraków, Poland, 2016. We were Erasmus Mundus masters students back then. My fellow Filipino classmates, who happened to be his former workmates in the Philippines, introduced us to each other as we all decided to travel and explore some European cities together on that Christmas school break. It was only a week-long trip, yet a memorable one. A trip with fellow Filipinos is always an enjoyable one- sharing jokes, laughter, meals and even money, and not worrying about any cultural differences. I got to know him as a friend of my friends, but not yet to a personal and up-close level. We haven't contacted each other again after that Poland trip, until some time in 2018 when our Filipino group planned another trip together again. This time, it was in Switzerland. Such a nice trip and great company, wandering in the green pastures and picturesque Swiss cities. We talked, but again not to a personal and up-close level yet- maybe we really didn't think about each other nor we consider ourselves friends when we are not travelling together. Anyway, how I loved my experiences as an Erasmus Mundus student. Little did I know that through this scholarship grant, I would get to know the person whom I will love for the rest of my life. We had another travel experience together, in 2020, after the lockdown, when we visited our common friend in Germany at the same time. We were not Erasmus Mundus masters students anymore in 2020, rather we were 2nd year PhD students in our own fields. I would say that it is in this travel where we got more comfortable with each other. We started talking on casually like good friends, sharing stories and experiences back when we were still in the Philippines before our master studies, drinking beers together, and talking about PhD lives. It is in these travel that I sensed how true and kind person he is. He loves his family. He always stands for what is right and just. He values education. After 2 years, we met again in Germany. This time, he has just finished his PhD and just started in his first job in Europe. Yet he was the same humble man I got to know better in 2022. As for my status, I haven't finished my studies at that time. I had just resigned from my work contract as a PhD student, and found my first job in Europe as well. I was so down with my PhD that I had to quit it and moved to a new country. I was suffering from mental and emotional challenges and all I wanted was to start a new life somewhere, alone, and far away from my PhD life. I have worked so hard for in the past 3 years, yet somehow I was not able to manage well and ended up feeling I have not accomplished anything. We met in Germany, we started to talk more often as we are sharing experiences in moving in to a new country and starting our first jobs in the industry. I was able to share to him why I had to quit my PhD studies, but little did I know that he was so concerned with me. He truly understood what I had to go through, yet he wanted to motivate me again. He didn't want me to just give up my PhD. He knew perfectly all the struggles, yet he still believed in me. During those times, he encouraged me to keep fighting. I explained to him that I was having anxiety and depression with finalizing my PhD and it was a hard time for me. There were time when he would remind me of my Chemistry knowledge in order to explain my analytical results, read my discussions and comment on them, and asked me practice questions in preparation for my defence to the examination board. He guided me until I was able to pick myself up again. Fast forward, I finished my PhD in 2023 with flying colours, and we are still together in Germany, working in our same respective companies, and living our lives together in the best possible ways we can, and always with smiles in our faces. To love, to inspire, to motivate, to keep learning- these are, I think, the greatest lessons I'm learning from him since then and until our lives remain.

Buddha Purnima marks the auspicious occasion of Buddha's birth, enlightenment, and nirvana, guiding humanity towards peace and enlightenment

I should have known I should have known you were hurting but I was blinded by my pride I should have figured something was wrong by the way you held your eyes. I lived in fear and confusion, but this is no excuse. I should have known how much it hurt you, the pain of this verbal abuse. I was so involved in myself and my seemingly “unbearable” feelings. To recognize your obvious grief. When you would flip, I'd say it because you were dramatic. Your brothers and I would laugh about it. We were blinded because of our sarcasm. You hid your fear and depression, with your ecstatic enthusiasm. I should have known it was all a lie. But every time I would just walk on by. I felt you hated me for so long. I never knew it was because of your desperate time. I should have learned to read the room and to use my words with wisdom. You were always smiling, but now I know it was all a mask. Then all your feelings tried to come down, in a crash. That night you tried to end it. I swear I would have been the one. If I had only known about it. But instead, it was the friend, the one who cared enough to know. With a phone call, he ended your decision. When the police came to the door You hid it from everyone, your mother doesn't even know. I found out about 9 months later when I swallowed my pride. We are great now, the hole in our relationship sewn. I just wanted to tell you how much I wish I had known.

Life is a canvas waiting for a unique brushstroke, a journey filled with twists, turns, and moments that define your resilience. Life is interesting. The person who was jumping in front of you and playing with you yesterday may not be around tomorrow. I didn't think about such things before, because I didn't want to, but life forces us to realize these concepts. On the ceaseless snowy day of December 18. 2023 our bustling preparation for my mother's birthday added an extra layer of anticipation to the atmosphere. We were all happy and having fun celebrating my mother's birthday with my family. Only my brother had not yet come and we were all eagerly waiting for my brother. Suddenly, the distressing news we received on that fateful day plunged us into a collective state of shock, transforming what was meant to be a joyous celebration into an unexpected period of mourning. I got a call from my brother's phone saying that my brother was brought to the hospital in a serious condition and there was a strong possibility of death. For me, that day was a massive blow and no comfort could ease it. Once a week before, this incident happened, my brother and I had a big fight. And even without knowing it, I looked at him and said:" It would be better if you were not in our lives, you were created only to harm us. I wish you would die sooner." Each utterance I directed towards him in a tone of reproach reverberated so loudly within the confines of my mind that I found myself grappling with the challenge of justifying and consoling my troubled conscience. Around 2 a.m. in the morning, my brother was taken to a major surgery. My parents and I begged God at night not to take my brother's life and return him to us. At that time, my mother's struggles weighed heavily on my heart. . All my mother's prayers to God were very touching, even my heart was broken. At that time, I truly came to believe in the profound difficulty of being a mother. Around 5a.m my brother left this world. Darkness enveloped my vision, leaving me uncertain about what steps to take or what the future holds. My mother's cry resounded so painfully throughout the hospital that no one didn't cry. My parents, even I couldn't say a word that day. I couldn't wish such intense pain, such profound loss, even upon my enemy. In the following days, I realized that simple tasks became arduous, and the weight of loss pressed heavily on my shoulders. Amid these dark times, I sought solace in memories of happy times spent with my brother. One day, I stumbled upon a box filled with mementos from our happiest days. Photographs are frozen in time, capturing smiles, silliness, and the essence of our unbreakable bond. Each picture told a story, a testament to the love and joy we shared. In solitude, I began to discover myself through these memories. I found strength in the love we had for each other and gradually the pain started to subside. While the ache of loss never completely faded, I learned to navigate the world without my brother physically by my side. I carried his spirit with me, finding comfort in the knowledge that the happy times we shared would forever be a part of me. After this incident, I made a conscious effort to treat everyone in my life with equal kindness, learning from my mistake with my brother. Recognizing the fragility of life, I began to invest more time in my family and express my love and appreciation more frequently. Discussing this matter and recalling the circumstances from that time is a challenging task for me. However, such is life. It presents us with numerous highs and lows and we should brace ourselves for each. In sharing this story, my sincere intention is for you to value your dear ones and express your love to them regularly, because, in the end, they might not be with you tomorrow.

May the blessings of Lord Krishna always be with you. Wishing you and your family a very Happy Krishna Janmashtami!😇

It was a small shop near the shore of Lake Erie where they still sold mostly knick-knacks, touristy items, and postcards. The postcards were for sale on a round wire rack that you could turn to pick the one that suited your fancy. Everyone in town knew about the postcard rack in that store because every year, two days before Christmas, you could buy a hand-written postcard from a dead relative. At first, the shopkeeper swore the few patrons to secrecy, but as things went in small towns, the secret soon spread as more than one person knew about the secret to the cards. My grandmother discovered this deal with the postcards the same year her Mack, my grandfather, died. Matthew was her husband for years, and his passing early in his life, at the age of sixty-four, caught him and her off guard. She had been practically a shut-in until the day she ventured out to that little shop. She couldn't bother to go into the town proper to purchase trinkets from the drug mart, so she thought she would try her luck at the lakeside shop. Never did she imagine buying a postcard that day. Something drew her to the rack, but she couldn't say what it was. She walked to it twice, stared at the cards in front of her, and not seeing anything that she fancied. She turned the rack three times before she saw a card that she knew was meant for her. Both Mack and she loved birds. Her love was the male Cardinal, while Mack's love was the male Bluejay. There on the rack, it may have been the last one, or the only one, she wasn't quite sure. To her, it didn't matter; what mattered was that that card was meant for her, and she knew it the moment she saw it—no question. She suddenly had a spring in her step and saw some glimmers of hope with the bright and merry season this year. As she brought the card to the shopkeeper, he commented on such a lovely card and how nice it was that she found the card she was looking for in all those cards on the rack. He put the card into a bag, especially for the card, and then bagged the rest of her other items separately. She drove home and wrapped the few trinkets she purchased but neglected to take the postcard out of the bag. It sat on the kitchen table in plain view. The following morning, she came for her tea and breakfast and saw the card on the kitchen table no longer in the bag. A pen lay across the picture of the Bluejay. Puzzled, she couldn't figure out if someone had come in during the night or if her eyes were fooling her. She poured her tea and then flipped over the card. To her amazement, a note was written declaring his undying love but asking her to live her life to the fullest without him. A tear fell down her cheek. Grandma read and re-read the card. She thought someone had played a huge and horrible prank on her. She became enraged. But after she realized no one had come by the house, she believed. She didn't dare tell anyone, fearing they wouldn't believe her. She rejoiced in her love postcard. When she returned to the shop, the rack didn't draw her attention this time. She couldn't figure it out. So she returned to that shop every day for the next year. And again, the rack beckoned to her on the eve of Christmas Eve. She had figured out the way it worked. That was the last year she got a card from the shop. Mack sent her one more note. Sharing that he missed their nights of sitting in the tv room watching Sonny Elliott together. Mostly, though, he missed her, her smell and touch. The following year, my mother went to that same shop because my grandmother, my dad's mom, shared with my mom that she needed to go to that shop and peruse the postcard rack on that specific day. My mother went, not knowing why, until she felt the rack calling to her. She turned it and found the card right for her. She brought it to the clerk. He asked, did someone tell you to come and purchase a postcard, or did you need one to send to someone? It was an odd question, but she answered that her mother-in-law suggested it. He smiled and put the card in a bag for her. Later that day, my mother cried a lot. Tears of joy fell from her eyes as she had a note from her mother. She couldn't believe her eyes. I suppose that my mother told two friends, who told two friends and so on and so on. The shop was tiny but always had plenty of postcards to replenish the rack. The shopkeeper couldn't wait to see who would come in the door next.

Quiet. That was it. It was Quiet. Laying on the soft grass side by side was all they needed. They didn't need anybody else, not their parents, not their siblings or friends. All they needed was each other even if no words were exchanged. The peaceful lulling sound of the nature around them was enough noise for them.Honestly, noise was overrated. There was no need for constant noise. Sometimes the sound of silence was enough, and that's what those girls all by themselves on the cushioning green grass with the sunsetting all around them needed. Silence. Sometimes silence can speak louder than words ever could, for instance right now these young teen girls don't need to verbally say “I love you” they could just lay there in each other's embrace watching the world change in front of their eyes in silence and those words were all they needed.It's quite similar to how animals express themselves to us. For example when a cat or dog is upset or angry at you they scratch or bite. When a cat or dog is happy and wants to show attention to their owner or another animal they rub up against them and or lick or lay with them, similar to how those girls are laying and just enjoying the moment together.The sunset that they seemed to be so mesmerized by had beautiful shades of orange, red, pink and purple. It was a beautiful sight, no wonder they chose the spot they are now relaxing at.They have been laying there for hours on end not a single word spoken, the warm summer air swirling around them and the birds singing It was so peaceful. It was moments like these that would forever stay a memory in both of their amazing minds. It was memories like these that they would tell their future children.People are always talking about how they visited all the great man made wonders of the world but sometimes the best man made wonders are the places no one sees. Like a special spot in a forest somewhere where there is a small gap in the trees where the moon shines through or its a place on the grass where you spent hours sunset watching and stargazing with your lover, sometimes those are the best man made memories.And that's what they did. They made their own man made memories like I like to call it.They did eventually leave but that did not mean that the memory making ends no memory making is constant, even a walk down a deserted, quiet street with only the street lights and the warmth of the other to keep them company it wasn't as scary as I made it seem but it was soothing. The barley lit street with each other's warmth was all they needed. They didn't a blanket or hand warmers because one hands are natural hand warmers and because all they needed was each other to keep them warm. Even the little kiss goodnight when they reach one of their houses promising to see them the next day and finishing with an I love you because all they needed were some kind words so they could fall into a deep sleep.The morning strolls through the park only to end up sitting on a bench feeding the birds was only one of the things they did after that night. They took those night gazing nights they took the sunset watching in the grass they took those little walks in the street, they took those little goodbyes each night and each and every one of those memories were stored.All they needed were those tiny memories that may seem useless and unnecessary to anyone else but them. It didn't matter to them if people thought that about their memories it was theirs to make and theirs to look back at.All they needed were to keep to themselves and those who had opinions that did not matter to stay away and do what they wanted with their lives.These memories were precious to them and all they needed was to keep them forever and continue making more.That's what they did. They made much more memories never needing to stop because who would want to stop making memories? They went skating, went to the zoo.They did things that they would have never done before they met teacher but now that they have all they needed was each other to conquer their fears and one by one the did so many unique things things even I the narrator wouldn't even dream of doing, but they did it together and nothing could stop them day and night they conquered and dreamed all of it .They took over the world just the two of them and nothing could separate them, not even an earth ending event. All they needed was each other to help them out of their shells that they had built to stop the world from breaking them but now they have each other to fight back the problematic world. All they needed was each other to stop the judgy people, the strange looks, the global warming all of the wrong things that have tried to bring them down individually now have no chance against them together for they are ten times stronger together even without words even with people trying to break them down but even with all that going on. All they needed was each other. Please Enjoy! Art by me

The recent massacre happened at a Catholic cathedral, killing 40 people. And more Catholic priests were kidnapped within a month. A deep sigh from me amplified my relief. But I knew even that was temporary. I was part of an almost-extinct group of people. I wore my chiffon cape on my plain black T-shirt. The cape, recently in fashion, hid my bulging tummy. I smiled at what I saw in the mirror. Walking out of my room, I find Mother and Lavender also dressed up for church. Going to church was dangerous, but even if I were to die there, I'd do it like some rich Lagos Aunty. But reality came after a thirty minutes drive. We met a long queue of cars at the church gate. A strained look decorated our powdered faces, speaking volumes of the fear banging hard against our chests. We watched cars get checked by the stern security guys before entry into our two-acre mega church. Looking away, I caught sight of one of the hefty soldiers from the military sauntering near our car, his long gun hoisted on his shoulder. His dark face reminded me of one of the scary stories that made up their reputation. And just then, an unusual sight caught my attention. It was a beardless fresh guy with oily skin in a black suit. He had his afro hair up like those who played musical instruments in church. His chocolate complexion screamed “Miri's style!” My eyes followed the eye-candy who walked smartly in his neatly pressed trousers. “My Sunday is made,” I murmured, smiling while the queue got to our turn. Lavender got out of the car to open the car's boot, so the security guys could check if we had a human head or some toy guns. Eye candy, aka EC, or rather Eecey walked ahead of us. And that was when my eyes caught the strange-looking briefcase he held unto just as he passed by the gate. An alarm rang in my head, “The briefcase!” it screamed. Guys here carried bags to church, not suitcases. I turned to my mother, who was waiting for the security to finish checking our car and let us in. I opened my mouth to say something, but Eecey felt my intense gaze and looked back at me. Instantly, my mouth curved into that melting smile I had been itching to flash someone. Our gazes locked for some seconds, with me smiling like some idiot. He looked away before continuing his brisk walk with the little briefcase. The car was finally allowed into the church. It was hardly parked till I got out of the car. My eyes roamed the premises. Eecey had vanished. It felt like the lives of almost two thousand people were in my hands. “Miranda! Miranda!” Shouts of my name whizzed past my ears. Before I could turn around, a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and turned me around. In all of these, my eyes were tightly shut. I was scared, muscled hands firmly wrapped themselves around me. “Calm down.” A delicious voice whispered in my ear. Time stilled, and I floated in the deliciousness of the raspy voice. The zesty smell of an unfamiliar cologne wafted in my nose, intensifying the magical moment. “Miiiranda,” The raspy voice purred into my ears, and my eyes flew open out of embarrassment. He had been calling for a while. I sighted my mother and Lavender among the agitated crowd gathered around. One of the soldiers stood with his gun poised, ready to shoot. My mother, who already had tears running down her face, had to drag Lavender down. I realized then the many guns directed at me and the hostage-taker. “It's me, Mira. I'm leaving. Tell them that,” He said firmly and nudged me with his knee, his gun at my head. I realized then that it was Eecey. “No!” I said, not actually surprised. The crowd surrounding us got energized at once. “Hit his jaw!” Someone screamed. But Eecey nudged me again. I knew I had to act fast. The soldiers looked readier to shoot than ever. “He's leaving!” I shouted and heard Eecey gasp in relief. The expression moved me, and strange confidence surged through me. “He's not going to kill me. I assure you!” I shouted again, leaving Lavender's mouth hanging open. “Miranda!” I heard someone call. It was Lavender. She had been rapping at the wooden table with her knuckles. And there I sat my laptop in front of me. I've had a character roam my head for days, yet I have been unable to put a word down for a couple of hours. Sunday service at church was uneventful anyways. “It's about another Eye candy right?” Lavender asked, styling her hair into twists. “Yeah, and you just dammed my inspiration,” I said crossly. “He was just about to have a mushy conversation with the female protagonist, telling her that she had saved everybody.” “And how did she save them?” Lavender asked in a sing-song, and I knew she was about to start teasing me. It was the third time I would create a character out of a good-looking guy I was attracted to. If I choose, I could make him a villain, or a hero in one of my stories. And that is one of the perks of being a writer. After all, it was just attraction.

TW: self harm When my screen lit up, I could feel my stomach flutter. I hadn't heard from you since you said Sydney texted you, and I wanted to hear what she said. But the news that I got was not what I wanted. You told me that she liked you, and you didn't really know what to think. You were excited, but you didn't want to let me down. We knew we could never be together, my family would never allow it, and we wouldn't be able to keep us a secret, nor would we want to. For a while now, we had been forced to love each other from a distance. We had been forced to hang out in secret, but I had hoped for more. Those times in secret were the best times we have ever had, and I took them for granted. I will probably never get them again. That summer, we met up at a softball game. It was our first time seeing each other since Covid, and I was nervous. You walked up, and you were beautiful. I should've kissed you right then and there, but I didn't. We talked for hours, and later you told me that you had thought about kissing me too. You asked me that night if it was better to speak or to die, a quote from the most recent book you read. I told you to speak, but you didn't take my advice, and turns out, I wouldn't take it either. I remembered the softball game when you asked me what to do about Sydney. You asked my permission to let you see if it was going to go anywhere. I kept asking myself if I would rather speak or die, and ultimately, I chose to stay silent about how I felt for you. I told you to go for it with Sydney. I wanted you to be happy. What kind of friend would I be if I asked you to wait for something that might never happen? I couldn't be selfish when all I really wanted was to see you smile. You were ecstatic when I told you to talk to Sydney. You told me you thought you liked her, but that we would always have something special. You said you had never felt the way you did about me before. You said I was different and you would never forget me. So that night, while we were messaging, I cried a river of tears. I cried until there was nothing left in me. You were my happiness. Without you, I wasn't sure what to do. All I felt was a numb, dull pain in my chest. It was heavy and sad and all I wanted was for it to be gone. So I tried to make physical pain outmatch the emotional pain. I slit my wrists that night thinking of you, and how maybe you could finally be who you wanted, and with who you wanted, even if it wasn't me. For the next couple weeks, I cried myself to sleep. I wore long sleeve shirts everyday too so you wouldn't see what I had done. One day though, I raised my hand and my sleeve fell down. You had looked at me for just the wrong second and you saw my scars. I followed your eyes and I began to panick. What was I going to tell you? You didn't outright ask at first. You asked me what was wrong because I seemed upset. You wanted to know if you did something wrong. No, not technically anyway. I told you I was fine, but I know you didn't believe me. I felt bad lying, but I couldn't tell you the truth. That was a couple years ago now, but I still think about it all the time. I mostly think about the softball game. If I had kissed you that night, would you still be mine? Why was I such a coward? Why was I so afraid of what people would think? Having people know I liked girls would have been a small price to pay to still be with you. But now we barely talk to each other. You took the school year online so you could focus on bettering yourself, and I don't blame you for that. I do wish that we kept talking though. This year was the worst ever because you used to be my lifeline, and suddenly you weren't there. We used to talk every night, dreaming about our future plans and imagining what we would do once we turned 18. We aren't like that anymore. We haven't talked like that in at least a year. I wish things could go back to the way they were. I miss the old us. We could do anything together, or at least it felt like we could. But now, you are practically gone from my life. You have moved on. Completely and for real. I only want to know how you did it? How did you let go of me? Because I have been trying to let go of you and I can't. Maybe I'll always love you, maybe I will never let go. But one thing is for sure. If I could go back, I would chose to speak, not to die. That night with Sydney, I would have told you everything that was inside of me, just waiting to be said. It might not have made you stay, but at least you would know. I would have stood a chance, because now it's tearing me apart. I miss you, Zoe. I hope your side of this story has been more joyous than mine. I'll be waiting for you if you ever decide to come back. You are special, and I will wait for you for as long as it takes. I love you.

Grace moved from England to Montreal as a war bride in 1945 where she raised her 4 children. Melanie was the youngest daughter of 5. Melanie's oldest sister died during the Blitz of London. Melanie was given a diary when she was 8 years old. Every night before bed she wrote in her diary and she turned to it as if it were her best friend. Melanie describes in detail what life was like for her. When she was 17 years old she boarded a plane with her mother to return to Lullington Road in Dagenham England to visit her Gran and Grandad. This is where she met Tony, the boy next door. A boy Grace did not approve of. Melanie, quickly fell in love with Tony and by age 19 they were married. Tony and Melanie moved to Canada to start a family. They had a son and twin daughters. Melanie was diagnosed with breast cancer that spread to her brain and she passed away in 1999. She left behind a son of 16 and twin daughters aged 13. I am Melanie's youngest daughter. She had written nightly diary entries until she died. During the pandemic I began to read the diaries and the trauma of such profound loss spilled out of the pages and into my lap. Life's bitter grasp of grief that had been clenched around my throat after her passing began to loosen and I discovered who my mother was. I discovered the love story between my parents and the reason why my father never recovered when she died. How was he truly to live without her? During the pandemic I held the weight of her diaries on my lap like a thousand pounds of brick and decided it was time to heal from the trauma that had ruled my life! I created a blog and through the pandemic I was reunited with my mother who left me behind nearly 25 years ago.

Grace moved from England to Montreal as a war bride in 1945 where she raised her 4 children. Melanie was the youngest daughter of 5. Melanie's oldest sister died during the Blitz of London. Melanie was given a diary when she was 8 years old. Every night before bed she wrote in her diary and she turned to it as if it were her best friend. Melanie describes in detail what life was like for her. When she was 17 years old she boarded a plane with her mother to return to Lullington Road in Dagenham England to visit her Gran and Grandad. This is where she met Tony, the boy next door. A boy Grace did not approve of. Melanie, quickly fell in love with Tony and by age 19 they were married. Tony and Melanie moved to Canada to start a family. They had a son and twin daughters. Melanie was diagnosed with breast cancer that spread to her brain and she passed away in 1999. She left behind a son of 16 and twin daughters aged 13. I am Melanie's youngest daughter. She had written nightly diary entries until she died. During the pandemic I began to read the diaries and the trauma of such profound loss spilled out of the pages and into my lap. Life's bitter grasp of grief that had been clenched around my throat after her passing began to loosen and I discovered who my mother was. I discovered the love story between my parents and the reason why my father never recovered when she died. How was he truly to live without her? During the pandemic I held the weight of her diaries on my lap like a thousand pounds of brick and decided it was time to heal from the trauma that had ruled my life! I created a blog and through the pandemic I was reunited with my mother who left me behind nearly 25 years ago.

It is that time of the year. The time were humans in the world generally celebrate a Kind of love. Red Roses, Maybe blue. Dinners, Maybe Breakfast. Butterfly belles, Maybe Babies. Mushhyy yummmy heartmelting synergy. >>>> But for me, It is just going to be another day to read my books and get well prepared for my exam, This celebration is for today to the average lovers but could be everyday for the other category that notwithstanding CGPA is for ever. PS:: Maybe I like book, exams and the energy that comes with the preparations.

KIM NAMJOON ONCE QUOTED “NO ONE IS BORN UGLY, WE JUST LIVE IN A JUDGEMENTAL SOCIETY”. Hello, I am Sania and today I am writing about something that we all have experienced, are experiencing and am sure will keep on experiencing for the rest of our life, Racism. So what exactly is racism? If you ask google it says “The belief that some races of people are better than others” but if you ask me I personally think it's much more than that. All the human race has experienced so many episodes of Racism in the form of color discrimination, and the chain doesn't stops there, its not always about the color people are racist about, Asian hate is a very burning topic nowadays, every day dozens of Asian-African people are killed in America for the sake Racism in a country where they consider as their very own. And its not that its just the common people facing it, we all know about the Meghan-Oprah interview where, the duchess of Sussex opened up about the poor mentality of the so called Royal family where she was continuously humiliated for not being a royal and in addition to it, white. Or whether it be the worldwide famous and beloved boyband BTS being called corona-virous by a German talk show host just for the sake of their increased popularity among the youths not just in their very own Asian country South Korea but also in this whole world. Passing homophobic jokes to the ones in such groups or the continuous misogyny that Women belong in kitchen and they can't drive, they are all the part of some poor Racist mind. And the incidents I am talking are just mere minute microscopic examples of Racism present among us. What we don't understand is it could be any of us some day or the other. Just keep yourself on the place of the little girl you just bullied for her color. Isn't it devastating to be shameful that is very own, ours. Making people feel bad about their own color, caste, creed, skin, hair or anything? You may argue that a simple non intentional joke with a friend wont be considered as Racism, but believe me my friend it is. Every journey starts with a single step and non intentional harmless bullying is a way good first step. Racism is destroying lives and we see it, everyday, yet we don't know how to react. Maybe because we are the ones who made the differences. We celebrate black history month to celebrate the brave one, but black! Isn't that Racist guys? Its just like saying “oh am not racist, I have a black friend” Why can't we see them just as brave people and not brave BLACK people. I don't know about you lot but if you ask me, as once quoted by comedian Vir Das I think the only possible way to defeat racism is creating a difference, not just the moral one but literal one. The most honest, simple, non-judgmental, and naïve way of getting rid of racism is acknowledging our differences. Yes acknowledging them because we are different, aren't we? my hair is different, my color is different, my skin is different, my values are different, and its ok to talk about it. If we talk about the fact that we are different, and acknowledge how we are different, why we are different, instead of pretending that everybody's the same and nobody is different, and yet in the subconscious counting the number of ways in which we are different, we all might be on the same page of acknowledgement and be less, Different. “Imagine jumping out of a skydiving plane and your parachute doesn't work. What memories would flash before you? Now imagine the parachute opened. How differently would you act when you landed?” That same rush of happiness would be on the little girls face when you will go to her and acknowledge her difference, instead of just bullying her for being different. Before ending my words I would like to say that, everyday when you see someone hating themselves for the way they are, hating their ethnicity, color, culture, race or anything, just remind them that they are beautiful, that they are the best version of themselves. As Alessia Cara song says, "Oh, they don't see, the light that's shining Deeper than the eyes can find it Maybe we have made them blind So they try to cover up their pain And cut their woes away Cause cover girls don't cry After their face is made But there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark You should know you're beautiful just the way you are And you don't have to change a thing The world could change its heart No scars to your beautiful We're stars and we're beautiful" Thank you so much and have a non-racist day ahead.

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