My Time At Yale

Everyone is against me- again. The rain is pouring heavily outside the big classroom window. I thought that the situation would get better as they started to accept my choice, but they did not. Their loud laughter, their stupid jokes and their judging voices echo in my head.  A couple of months so I have gotten used to it by now. January 2016. I am 15 years old. A time I remember as stressful and painful. The too strong coffee to force me awake during the nights… desperately studying, that would describe the time well. I was in my last year of elementary school and the competition for the highest grades was not only clear but also tangible. The Swedish School system differs a lot from the American.  The decision as to which high school to attend is of huge importance to us. However, it should not be considered a hard one, at least not if you have enough high grades to attend one of the four most prestigious schools in Stockholm. They are all known for their impressive g

My summer paradise, my island, it is a place with more memories than I can count to. From playing barefoot in the dew filled grass to sneaking out late in the warm summer haze, and everything in between. My place is filled with peace and silence, rather than a busy morning pace and the noisy afternoon city traffic. It is a place where everything stays as it always has been, day after day, year after year, a place where the time stopped decades ago. I am sitting on the grey colored cliff feeling the warm sand-soft stone against my hands, while overviewing the Baltic Sea. Waves are swinging slowly. The cool evening breeze fans my bleached hair. Freckles cover my sun-kissed face. It smells summer to me, a smell hard to explain, however it is the most nostalgic one ever. The flourishing lilacs, the salty seawater and the freshly cut grass. Taking a deep breath, inhaling the moment, feels refreshing. The air feels so clear, free from the traffic-pollution and the city dust. Just clean

Is it possible to find serenity in public space? Without any deeper anatomy, I would answer no. However sitting in the Beinecke, carefully observing every move of people strolling around, in a harmonious rhythmic pace , makes me feel peace. They walk slowly, step by step while their feet softly stroke the grey concrete floor, like a gentle stroke on a cat’s fur. They are too busy having deep conversations with each other to even notice my presence. How I slowly follow them, watching every move they make rigorously; their conscious nodding, their engaged eyes and their serious voices. The voices, they catch my attention. I can clearly hear them talking. However I can’t hear a word of what they are saying. The sound of their voices disappears into the magnificent space, absorbed by the white marble walls. The walls, made of thin slices of white marble, are the ornament of the building.  Like the cherry on top of the sundae, they put a special stamp on the room. Their capacity to

There I am. Pressed against the cold ground. In the beautiful park with flourishing tulips, however all I can see is haze.   People are surrounding me. In panic, they try to wake me, unfortunately without success. Am I alive? Am I dead? I don’t know. To be honest, I have no idea. I hear these screaming voices filled with fright but I can’t respond to them. It was supposed to be a lovely day in the verdant park. I had prepared my specialty for him, cherry pie with extra cherries on top, the day before. Even in my wildest dreams I could never predict this. Hearing blurry voices screaming in panic around me, I want to show them a sign of life, to assure them that I am okay, even though I am not. I try to lift one arm, but my body defies me. I have lost control over my own body. My biggest fear, losing control,  I am now facing. Feeling the cold surface of the grey asphalt pressed firmly into my pounding body while I try to clear my hazy mind. How could he? I try to remembe

Life is like a lottery. Some children grow up in a happy home with loving parents while others live in total misery. The Glass Castle written by Jeannette Walls and The Family Castle written by Nancy Rakovszky portray two opposite family bonds. Walls describes her lonely childhood growing up in a trailer park in Arizona with an unconcerned mother. In contrast The Family Castle portrays through beautiful metaphors unconditional love between a mother and her child. Nancy Rakovsky captures a powerful bond between an unselfish mother and her child, while Jeanette Walls portrays her story about growing up with a selfish mother. The t wo authors contrast two different bonds between a mother and her child. The mother in The Family Castle welcomes her child with love and care. She will be a protective, caring and responsible mother, “ For the castle’s built on love and hope. Alone you are no longer.” The mother that is portrayed through metaphors shows her child a safe place w

Youth is the time of our lives when we search for an identity in order to find ourselves. We are searching for someone to be and somewhere to fit in. Everyone wants to be a part of a group, something bigger. In our early youth we start creating an ideal picture of our own future and we start a complex journey towards it. However, this journey could be hard. It is not always easy to handle the pressure from everyone around and to stand up for ourselves. In the early teenage years, we are so vulnerable, insecure and doubtful as we try to fit in somewhere and be someone. All we need is just someone who supports us and accepts us for who we really are. It was when I was confusingly searching for someone to be, an identity, that Elin came into my life. She became my other half. If I would be running down the corridor with tears streaming down my cheeks, she would be the one running after me trying to make everything okay. If I would get into a conflict, she would be the one taking my