I'm going to tell you a story, and it does not start with "Once upon a time...", but she might wish it did. For then, she too would be blissfully fictional and not painfully human. It is about the girl like any other. She liked the smell ground after the rain and hated the ultimate heat of the summer. Loved to get lost in the known parts of the woods and enjoyed how a creek can wash off all kinds of emotions. She loved dogs. Had two. She often admired her yellow cat for the simplicity of the days... Candles were for tough days and something sweet for every. Wind could make her feel alive and soothe the anger of raw emotion and strange people. She adored smelling that celestial aroma on her wrists, but often forget to put the perfume on. Loved ladybugs and nightingales, but never actually heard the exact lullaby. Fireflies were the magic and leaves could tell a story, though often a gloomy one. Spring could make her feel the pain of melancholy and autumn would make her feel alive again. Blood would make her wonder and people made her sick. Some days all the bottles of laughter she cherished so fondly were cracked and leaked in places, in time, melted with pain and grief. And when all that heroic pain became a burden, she'd start to grieve for the person she was before... the softness of a pillow, hot showers, and chocolate... the best thing for the worn-out soul. so that's when she'd realize that grief was just wild and forgotten love. Eyes are the mirrors and grin is a battle scar. Nothing can turn back time. Except for memories. And sometimes she hated that wretched window she could easily open. But through the image, the glass was already gone. So she would think of salt as an ocean and not a drop. Wild, ultimate, and free. The smell of the ocean always brought smiles and with the scent of pines, the moment of freedom. Cold is clarity for her and heat is too much. She likes the color blue and the sky with puffy clouds. In fields of green, she's frequently looking for clover with three petals, because that brings peace to the storms in the force of life around her. December sun can make her soul warm and she would smile like a new miracle was found. Every night they met, she often asked the Moon if she can make her full too because she was torn between the wonder of thoughts and wounds of reality; that didn't make her bitter, just more human than she knew. So, you see, all people enjoy Earth and what they think magic is in their different, but just another way of understanding the real world around them. Romanticized by the poets and worshipped by the nature. And sometimes air around you shifts and the path for the day goes well off the tracks... and the whole world is against you. Those days you frequently ask yourself about the mere purpose, but there's no known response that can bring you enough wisdom or happiness. It all belongs to you. All that pain and joy. Mind is a strange struggle itself, and I believe completely in that quote I bear in my mind; it sometimes creeps in, like a phantom and I find it sipping herbal tea, oblivious to my fear... "Not all those who wander are lost." So when our girl, that this story is about, goes looking for that particular wardrobe, blue box or huge hole near the tree... or even second star in the night sky... don't you dare to stop her! You can join her of course, and bring a book! She might not be fond of people in general, but I can tell that she likes humans with a rainbow in their eyes.

It all started on a very normal day of quarantine. I was sitting around and doing what I had been doing for the past few weeks. Sleeping, eating, reading, and watching TV. Nothing very productive or demanding. Then my sewing teacher sent me a link for a tutorial and a blog post about masks. The blog post asked for people to make masks and donate them to our local medical facilities because they were quickly running out. My sewing teacher had the idea for us to make a few dozen masks and donate them. It started small. My mom started asking around on Facebook if anyone had any elastic that we could buy. That didn't work out in the way we were hoping. Eventually, my mom ordered some on Amazon. I thought would be the end of it. But it wasn't. My mom's posts caught the attention of someone with a very harebrained idea. This person had the idea to start a movement. This idea was called "Operation Come Together". I was the first person to make a mask for Operation Come Together. From then on it grew and grew into something amazing. It astounded me to see how many people came together to help stop the spread of COVID-19. There were countless volunteers and even more donations. All the while I made masks. In the beginning, the need was so great that I ended up sitting at my sewing machine for three days almost non-stop. I only took breaks for food, the bathroom, and sleep. It was exhausting and got a little monotonous, but it was worth it. After that, I slowed down. I worked on masks for a few hours a day. Eventually, I started to go to the headquarters of Operation Come Together with my mom. I went a few times, but I didn't go very often. It was very risky because my little brother is immune-compromised. After a few visits, I stayed at home to make masks. After about a month had passed the mask shortage in our area was curved and the factories had enough time to make and send more out. This was at the very beginning of quarantine. Now, almost five months into quarantine, I only make masks occasionally when someone needs them. Even though the rush has stopped, COVID-19 is still a pressing issue for all of our daily lives. It takes our loved ones, cancelled school, and has caused many of our family members to lose their jobs. It is a scary time that we live in. But I believe that as long as people are willing to help and to stand by those who need it, we will get through this.

This is my first post. My first attempt to vent the tumultuous anger inside me, as I, along with all of you, am being hurled towards the inevitable unknown that is death. Travelling at the speed of time we blindly crawl around this spherical tomb, seeking various forms of pleasure to distract our little minds from wandering down the dark path of questioning life. And don't for a second think that I exclude myself from this company. We're all here, we're all lost, we're all sick, and we're all drowning in that which is, for the most part, unanswerable. Hence I, like many others, let myself fall limp into the lukewarm hands of faith. A faith which will never give me the satisfaction I desire. Some would label it a pessimistic approach to Christianity, some would probably call it optimistic agnosticism. Although I struggle to comprehend how faith is anything except a term to describe the act of blindly packaging up all of life's unknown questions into a nice little box and then claiming that the box itself is the answer. How can not knowing the answers really be the answer? And so the friction from this relentless cycle of questions ignites the emptiness inside of me once more. It burns cold in the dark abyss that is my soul. I find it hard to imagine that I am alone so I pose to you a question. Think of the one thing in this world that you love the most, and ask yourself this: If you found out for certain that this thing was just part of your imagination, how long would it take you to realise that it's real?

“Shy kids never shine” Naturally, as a 17 year old girl living as Gen Z, this quote struck my eye as I was about to swipe through the never-ending Snapchat stories. I replayed this particular story about five times, just to make sure that I had read it right. There it was, written on the whiteboard at the top in blue marker surrounded by a bubble. My initial reaction was to make a pun, also natural but in a more personal way. Ahaha yeah, shy kids never shine, they shy-ne I snickered in my head, too embarrassing to say out loud. An hour later though, it floated right back into my head, because of a stupid comment by a stupid teacher. I'm aware of how much I sound like a 21st century teenage cliche, and that's okay. Once you learn how to accept yourself, it's much easier to go through life without having to meet people's expectations. Before the quote really hit me, I had gone to the careers office in my school, as my friend had requested my presence while she went to pick up a form from the careers teacher. As I stood idly, waiting for the teacher to fish out the paper from one of the desk drawers, she turned to me and said “Have I seen you before?” Hmm. I had a feeling where this was going, but I replied nonetheless. “Not personally. I mean, I've come to this office a few times when my friends had career committee meetings, but not like, personally to get advice from you.” A pause. “I have never seen you. Or is it because you're wearing your hair open today?” I shook my head no. “And the fact that you're a prefect too? That's sad.” She scrutinized my red tie and the badge that read “prefect” in bold, gold letters that the school insist all of us authoritative figures wear. I felt myself get defensive immediately, intimidated by her tone and the words that accompanied it. “Um, I mean you have seen me though, I've gone up in assembly for being a prefect and my clubs and…” She cut me off and said “Yeah but that was in a group. You've never been up to speak individually have you? Mmm. So you kind of just…fade into the background. No one ever remembers the shy students.” And just like that, my good mood had turned sour, and it was as if someone had poked a hole in my body as it slowly deflated. What irked me the most was the fact that I had been doing so much in the past year as it was my last year before university, and that was clear as I indulged in activities such as community service and made a name for myself such as holding a prefect position. And not even because I needed them to look good on my c.v, but because I had finally started to come out of my shell and genuinely enjoyed them. So why did I care so much that this teacher, who wasn't even involved in other aspects of the school apart from careers, didn't recognize me, and so essentially, recognize me as a student of this school? It was because I knew the type of person that I used to be, and how far I'd come, and her blunt words bought me right back to the past. Introvert. Shy. Awkward. Behind the scenes. Under the radar. Closed-off. Quiet. Mostly synonyms of each other, and none of them new to me. In my previous school, I had been the dictionary version of a wallflower, never really participating in any events, though I knew it would benefit me later on. Always sticking in my comfort zone, with the same group of equally as shy friends. Always cowering away from the limelight. Neutral. Unknown. Faded. Even though I knew that I had become a completely different person in a good way, improving myself and getting to this point where I participated in a bunch of clubs and socializing with people, it made me angry that a teacher could be so blunt and crush someone so easily. Even if I was still that shy girl that I used to be, it didn't make me any less worthy than people who had the confidence to speak in assembly all the time and make themselves known. Some of the most famous people were the most shy kids, and most of the processes that work today are due to people behind the scenes, sometimes never getting credit for the effort they put in. The world isn't fair like that, but for a teacher to put someone down without even knowing them, it's a different story. I know I'm just 17, but I truly have made so many experiences in the last two years of my A levels that have provoked me to reflect on myself everyday, and want to share them with people who can relate. Like I said in the beginning, it may be cliche, and sometimes I may act like it too, but as long as you know your abilities, it really doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of you. For any teachers, or even parents out there; please encourage your kids in the right way. Let them know that they're never too quiet or too loud, and that they can achieve regardless. For those of you who're still trying to figure this whole life thing out like me; you'll never be too shy to shine, and a quote I used to relate with that still makes me smile, “never let them dull your sparkle.”

I didn't mean to Say the things I did To reject the love you gave I didn't have the strength To try again that day I didn't mean to Take the "easy" way out You see it never has been I feel things many can't grasp Only to carry them deep with- in I didn't mean to Make you worry about me I've tried to carry on Waking each day with reminders That it's only me who's wrong I didn't mean to Leave you feeling guilty For not trying harder to understand I'd hoped to conquer this demon Who's gripped me in his hand I didn't mean to Make you weep with sorrow But I leave you with this promise I will cherish your love and forgiveness When I see you again and kiss - you.

Imagine an old pickup truck hustling down a rural dirt road. You know that plume of dust kicked up at its rear? That's been my reality for the greater part of my life; a dust storm of chaos, confusion and primarily, delusion. I began chasing the dim tail lights of that noisy old truck as a naive young girl. In the beginning, I just followed because I had heard that was what you do and I am very much a rule-follower. I was convinced I had to chase it, catch it, stop it. I thought that big 'ol ball of dust was mine, all mine. My purpose in life was to defeat it. So I sped and I tried to outrun it. Other times I swerved, trying to get around it and landed myself upside down in a ditch. Some days it was boring and monotonous so I veered off the road, took a break and watched the dust settle a bit. Occasionally, I could see but not for too long because I was eager and ambitious. So I hopped on its tail once again determined to conquer it. Inevitably, I landed in the ditch damaged and broken unable to get up. So there I lay, resting. It was awkwardly comfortable. The dust settled a little and I realized that lying in the ditch was much more pleasing than chasing that unending dust storm. So I stayed and I sat. I watched, I listened, with abundant curiosity. I practiced over and over again. Deep down I knew there was another way. There had to be because chasing that dust cloud had just about killed me. After some time contemplating from the trench I noticed simple but wondrous things. The sun began to shine and I could see a little. There was more than that dirty screen I had stared at for so long. Graceful wildflowers surrounded me. Beauty embraced me. It was in the trees, in the ongoing prairies and the vast, vast sky. A bright, constant sun showed me the way. Birds chirped and I heard sounds of insects I couldn't even recognize. And occasionally it fell silent; absolutely silent. What an extraordinary sound. One I had never heard before. I call it peace. And then there was a cool breeze. It gently soothed my sweaty skin. I relaxed, fully relaxed. I noticed the smell of clean fresh air. The kind you inhale and it is sweet and pure. It clears all of the leftover debris from your airways and leaves you satisfied.