" I should have known sleeping on that bench was a stupid Idea.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I was fully Aware it was. But I was too tired, and cold, and lying down was so tempting...

It was one AM in the city. Earlier, I had meant to go to a show, even though my mental state was unstable to begin with, and large groups of people and noise made it worse.

But this show was important, a friend was performing. I was insistent on supporting her.

I ended up having a panic attack, throughout the whole show, right outside of the theater.

at this point, most people would have gone home. But in my state, I fell asleep on that bench. I assumed home would be there tomorrow, and in the morning it'll be easier to find my way there.

but now I'm not on that bench. Now I'm in prison. My head hurts, and everything is blurry. I have no idea how I got here.

When I get a panic attack, I black out. I forget what I do, or say, until it's over.

The last thing I remember is that bench. I swear. I'm not sure what I did wrong. "

My deadbeat father is apparently the king of the gods, a much less forgiving fact than you would think, considering he decided to leave me and my sisters with his son, and a tired nymph who truly had no clue how to deal with us.

We were 16 when they told us, and all of my sisters reacted in their own silly ways.

Melpomene, for example, burst into dramatic tears straight away, crying hysterically before Apollo could even finish his announcement. Polymnia, another sister, squealed with excitement, claiming that Zues was the “biggest hero of them all”, and that this incident practically “gifted” her with millions of new ideas, most of which for her songs and poetry. Terpsichore, in her shock, stopped moving around and sat quietly, an occurrence I had witnessed only once before in my whole life. And I ? I thought the whole situation was quite funny. And, in order to avoid Apollo’s usual judgement of “me not taking situations seriously ”, I took the nymph’s old, raven colored mask and wore it, actively hiding my face. I grew to like it, the old mask. I decided to wear it, forever.

The next day we were summoned to entertain the “twelve olympians”, or, more accurately, we were summoned to stand perfectly still and look nice while singing some “ancient melodies”. I despised these gatherings, even as my sisters would enjoy them. It was our only purpose, our only job: entertaining the gods on their meetings. As Apollo inspected us, he took one look at me, and insisted:” Talia, it has been ten hours. Take off that rediculous mask.”

“either the mask stays on, or I’m not coming”, I replied.

Apollo sighed, but nontheless gathered us all to leave for the occasion. It was an exciting event for us, because since we last preformed, us sisters made some fascinating discoveries: Urania, the youngest sister, invented a new science named “Astronomy”. Clio, in her hours of reading and analysis, found a part of history no one knew about before. Even Erato, who usually preferred to wander around, not doing much more than dreaming, was insistent on sharing her newest poetry with the goddess of love-Aphrodite.

Almost all of us were planning on meeting an Olympian, and all of us knew, that once again, they wouldn’t even look in our direction once we mention new knowledge or literature. This time, though, I had a plan. This time, I was going to make the gods listen to our findings.

It was Dionysus’s birthday, and for two hours we sang , as we did normally. What was different now, from any other gathering, was what we we’re planning: my two sisters, Calliope and Euterpe, teamed up with me: we stayed awake for nights, writing, and plotting, creating a play that was one of a kind: a play, that was also a comedy. The penalty for disobeying the gods was death. we knew that, but we’d rather die, than keep hiding.

I despised when our talents were unappreciated, we all did. It was the one thing we could all agree on.

when the clock hit two, precisely two houran after arrival, me, Calliope, and Euterpe tore off our formal dresses, revealing our costume- like appearances. Before long we hushed every diner and sister. When we succeeded, Calliope began her speech: ” my gods and godesses, we are thankful to be graced with your presence. today, for our program, we prepared something...different. It’s both a comedy and play, brought to you by us muses. May we continue to present, although it’s new, and different ?”

Calliope’s question was relatively rhetorical ,since these types of requests were never allowed after the music was decided . I could see the anger in zuesses face, his will to kill all of us at once, erasing the shame of our existence. But it was Dionisus’s birthday, and so he got to decide. In his drunken state, and since he had an affinity for playwriting, he looked at Calliope and said: “a comedy play, you say? Very well. If it’s any good, we will release you, and allow you a place of honor with a cult. But if it’s no good, you will recieve the usual punishment for such matters... understood?”

shocked by the response, calliope shook her head with approval. But, of course, we were confident in our skills, we were the muses- without us, art and literacy simpmay couldn’t exist.

When the play was over and the crowd was crying with laughter, Dionysus kept the promise and gave us a cult, who worshipped us. But more importantly, finally, after so much time, the gods listened to us. And that was how, the gods -learned to create innovation.

There is a great power in doing extreme things, especially if those weren't planned ahed of time.

Luckily for me, I discovered this power ever since I was young.

Up until seventh grade, I didn't really like nature, not really. Something about it was odd, unpredictable- it made me feel weak. In the seventh grade , I, against all odds, somehow managed to climb a mountain. And that was when I finally got it, when I finally realized why nature was so scary before. Nature is unpredictable- and so is life. It's hard to acknowledge at first, but when you do, thing become a lot more comfortable.

I became a lot more comfortable, anywhere I went. That life lesson changed me-forever .

When I was five years old, my mom used to think that putting me in my room, alone, was a suitable punishment for when I misbehaved. A few years before, the first time I was punished this way, I was sure it was the worst fate in the world. I would cry histarically, and spend an awful lot of my time feeling like it was the "end of the world". But soon, I got used to it. And I discovered, that my room had a lot more activities than I thought.

By the time I was 5, my favorite way to deal with emotions, was by using my imagination. When I was happy, I would imagine flowers, and beautiful fairies, floating around me , and singing, or dancing. When I was sad, a dark, rainy cloud would appear, following me around wherever I went. But oddly enough, my favorite part of my imagination, was a part I could only access when I was angry, alone, in my room. And that part was my favorite -because of Sailor Jane. I remember how rugged she looked, her face scabbed, her clothing torn and muddy, and her hair, held only barely by a messy braid ,and a pirate hat. I never talked to her, not even once. I only ever stood next to her, watching as she bravely sailed. Sailor Jane's boat was one of the best I had ever seen. It was an old fasioned wooden ship, and while we could always go downstairs to the lounging area, me and Sailor Jane always stayed on the top deck. The ship itself was relatively small, and the sails were the main thing that manuvered us in the right direction. And yet, even when we we’re moving straight ahed, and even when a different crew member offered to steer instead of her, Sailor Jane insisted that "this was where she belongs". She never left her steering wheel, not even for a moment. I think something about me admired her persistence. Sailor Jane had a rebellious look on her face, the kind someone has when he’s commited a few crimes. I knew, for example, that Sailor Jane’s boat was stolen. And I knew, that she left her family behind. But I always felt that- those were okay. She only acted like this when she needed to, in order to survive. There was something pleasant about Sailor Jane, something lovable and happy. Despite her wearines, she befriended everyone on the ship. The silly thing was- although I loved being on the ship- I never understood where it was going. Sailor Jane clearly had a destination she was heading towards, and she was always aiming for a place, or a thing....

but I never saw her destination, I would always only see the boat when it was in the middle of the sea.

I don't think that Sailor Jane had a real destination. I think she was lying to herself, believing theres a bigger reason for everything. I think that's why I liked her. I used to feel the same thing .

For giving a chance to defy odds.

For giving support and help when one is most alone

For giving.

For giving the homeless a shed when they freeze and shiver.

For giving children hope when from fear they quiver.

For giving.

For giving food to hungry men .

For giving life to a hopeless wren.

For giving .

For giving all that we can to make this planet a better place.

For

Giving

.

Forgiving.

Forgiving one for not being helped .

Forgiving yourself for being powerless on that account .

Forgiving.

Forgiving the homeless when they refuse a shed .

Forgiving children for their fears in their head.

Forgiving.

Forgiving the hungry for not taking ones food.

Forgiving the wren who died like a fool.

Forgiving.

Forgiving all you cannot forget .

Forgiving all you forgot but shan’t.

Forgiving life and yourself for your mistakes.

Forgiving.

Because for giving

We must forgive all we had done wrong .

Because for giving

We must remember that we are men, not gods.

In order to give we must forgive all that we did wrong .

For giving and forgiving

For ever, and all along.

One day it all just disappeared.

I tried to remember, trying to grasp my thoughts. But it was a whole lot of nothing. It was just...gone.

I was in ninth grade, and I knew very little: I knew my name, my knowledge from school, I knew I liked to hike, and that something really, really bad happened beforehand.

I suddenly felt like a kid again. Suddenly, I could rebuild myself.

The good thing about being a kid when you're grown, is that you can do it right this time. Because you aren't dependent on anyone.

But, a lot of things are really, really bad. Because all of you're life lessons, all of you're memories. They just... disappear. You become sad, depressed even. You grieve a person you don't even know.

but maybe one day, you'll remember, and it will all make sense. At least, that's what happened to me. And maybe it was hard, and maybe slightly inconvenient. But it had to happen. that's the way it had to be.

Yesterday I talked to a raven. It was really quite nice.

Admittidly, this recent quarantine has become so boring and lonely, that I think I'd be happy to talk to anyone. It was Saturday afternoon, when the raven flew right near my window, deciding to seat himself on some flat surface outside. I could see him, and by his look, I knew he could see me. He smiled, in his own bird-like way, and croaked once. I don't know why, but I knew exactly what he wanted. "hello to you to, Sir. what's you're name?"

The raven croaked shortly.

"Finch? Ooh! Such a cool name! Nice to meet you!"

The Raven snuggled in his feathers, resting himself on the surface he had found. And then, out of nowhere, the Raven just said: "nice to meet you, too!"

I was so startled, I nearly fell back:" A talking raven?! I'd never seen one before!"

Finch remained calm: "That's because I'm not from here. I'm from a land far, far away. but one day, I bumped my head a bit too strong when when crashing into a tree trunk. And since than, I was here."

I was so excited to meet this interesting entity: " I can't believe it! That's amazing!

What did you're old home look like?"

Finch sighed, and he seemed a bit saddened: "my home was a wonderful, green plain, filled with lush, green trees. I don't think of it often. it makes me sad."

I didn't want to depress him more, but just had to ask: "that sounds....not great. How did you cope with appearing in the city?"

He actually smiled at this: "actually, at first, it was really quite interesting. It's really quite wonderful, to see a new place." he then paused, and became sad: "but than , I understood that I wasn't coming back. And that made me really sad." He sighed: "I met a girl, built a family. But I still miss my home."

I felt sad for him, I knew what it meant to miss you're home: " I wish I could help you, I couldn't imagine what you feel..."

I paused: "but I guess, if you really miss home... why don't you start looking? "

He thought about it, organizing his thoughts: "maybe. That's a nice thought." He smiled: "maybe after quarantine. I like you, you're a nice kid. I hope to visit you again."

"I hope to see you, too" I replied. I really did. He was nice guy.

I don't know how I knew I was dead, but somehow, I just...knew. Without the weight of my body holding me down, being left only with the weight of thoughts, I felt... light. Extremely light. I was light to the point, where I was positive, that if I would jump up- I wouldn't be coming down. I wasn't happy. I knew, this lightness... it meant that I would never see anyone I'd loved, again. I was in a completely dark room, that's all I knew. I had just awaken from what felt like a deep, dark slumber, and as I pushed myself to a sitting position, I realized I'd arrived in a coffin-like contraption. The moment I sat up, I began crying. I didn't know how time will go on, without my loved ones. I didn't know how I'd cope.

It Took around 15 minutes of crying before my guide arrived, and I stopped. She appeared out of thin air. When she came,part of the room suddenly lit around her- she had an aura of sorts- a glow. Accept for that, she looked completely human. She had large brown eyes, straight brown hair, and wore a wide , ivory ballgown, making her look completely magical. Right next to her, was a large, illuminated arch, which looked a lot like a wedding arch, or a gate to some fairytale forest. For the first time, there was enough light for me to see Myself. I looked to where my legs would be- and saw nothing. Quickly, I looked to where my hand would be- and saw nothing. If my guide wouldn't have stopped me, I would have begun crying- again. But just as I wanted to, she smiled, sadly, and began talking: "hello! Welcome. Welcome to heaven". "H....heaven?" I asked, being quite confused. I didn't think I belonged in heaven. But why would I question it?

My guide sighed. "yes, everyone is confused at first. But don't worry, it will become clear eventually". Suddenly, she became uncomfortable: "but before that can happen, I need you to do something for me". "What's that?" I said, worryingly. I was hoping nothing extreme would be done.

It took a few moments for my guide to organize her thoughts, trying to explain gently: "the republic of heaven has decided, that in order to avoid...sadness, or depression, anyone who enters must let go of any memory they had when they were alive. Don't worry! You will remain yourself, you'll have you're personality, but all of your memories will be...gone. It will be easier that way, I promise". I was completely shocked, and, quite lost. But than I remembered- I was dead. I Would never be able to see anyone of these loved ones again. Still, I dared to ask: " what happens... if I refuse to stop remembering?". Again, the guide sighed: "If you don't consent to the ritual , it won't work. And if it dosen't work, you will have to stay.....here". she paused.

I felt the weight of the decision. I knew, I couldn't decide right away. "very well, my dear", the guide said to me, softly. " take your time, and tell me when you're ready. I'll wait right here.". The guide sat on the pure darkness, her aura revealing a lush bed of grass. It took me four days of crying, Four days before I was ready to stop remembering. When I told her, she smiled happily, as she told me that all I needed to do was go through the gate. I remember my perseverance before entering, my mixed emotions. All I can remember from the ritual, is my saddened self, trying to hold on to at least, one memory. I guess out of all of them, this was the one I was given. Everything else is nothing more than a feeling , a "knowing", that something belongs there. That guide was right. Since the day I've passed, I've been happy.

But sometimes, I wished I knew, what those memories were. Who I left behind, and why? Every night, I think about those people, and wonder- if they think of me.

I'm a great believer in the power of humans. I always have been. Ever since I was young, I believed in it. But when you're young, there's a clear limit to who you can meet. I only really knew my family, people associated with them, or my schoolmates. But the more I grew, little by little, my curiosity - and maybe my naivety, drove me to travel, to discover. And the more I grew- the more discovering I did.

When I think of "happy memories", I always think of the memories I shared with communities. Some black, some white, some asian, or palestinian. but we are all part of something bigger: we are all part of the community- of earth.

One of my happiest memories, is from a hike on the beach. It was our second night, and we were all tired, trying to rest. But as we cooked our dinner , an Idea arose-

"why don't we all sing? Play the guitar?"

we were over 100 kids from around the country, and We barely had anything in common. But , the language of song- is one that breaks all boundaries. Truthfully, none of us could sing all of the songs. But every time one was played we listened: to the different people who sang them, to the different stories they were trying to tell.

And there were so many different stories. Because the thing about humans, is no matter how far away, or how close by- we each have our own unique story.

meeting many people at once, is like eating a bite from every type of chocolate. Each person slightly different. But wonderful, in their own way.

the hike lasted four days, and it ended two days after my memory. We were all sad that it ended, and yet, happy to return home.

But after that trip, I learned to appreciate the biodiversity of humans. And since than, deep under my skin- I store an endless amount of different memories, only waiting to be heard .

Now it's a time of lonliness, but In spite of this- the excessive amount of time , and the struggle we are all going through together, has -in an odd way- given is a golden opportunity-to get together, to help each other, to get your stories-known.

Because the biodiversity of humans also means, that we can learn from each other, and help each other. Use that.

Dear Abby,

I love you.

A lot.

you know that, actually. But I had to begin this letter somehow.

You also know I care about you

so

much.

More then I care about any other friend I have. That’s why you’re never going to hear what I’m writing now.

Truth be told, I’m not as honest with the people I love the most. That’s the first thing you’ll never know. You’ll never know how much I lie .But that’s okay. It doesn’t seem to matter now.

You’ll never know how mad I was when you’re parents flew to Thailand, just as the corona began to spread. Youll never know, because I'll never tell you. I was scared to hug you. I was afraid they got the virus there, and you got it from them. I still hugged you , though. I didn't want to hurt you. I never seemed mad when I knew your dad isn't sleeping seprately from you, even though he worked at his shop when we were all in quarantine. But I was. Actually, that's a lie. I wasn't worried. I thought this whole "Corona thing" was just a big joke. I know you did to. Because otherwise what happened -wouldn't have happened. I never told you I was so annoyed to be the last one to know. The last one to know what happened to your father. I'm still the last to know and I'm still annoyed. I wished you cared about me as much as I do for you. I never told you that from the beggining something felt odd. At least to me. I never told you I just bruahed it off. I always do. That's how I live.

I wish I could somehow prepare you then for what was going to happen.

I'm mad . I'm mad because he needed assistance breathing for 3 days before you told me.

How

dare you.

I had to hear that from my mom , going crazy that whole weekend until you finally called. And yet, I'm not mad at you, really. Im mad at the world, at god, for letting us get to this .

This- is a nightmare.

I never believed since then that he was going to get better. Never. Not really. Even when I tried it seemed blurry, and hopeless.

I never slept well since my mom told me . I wake up in the middle of the night, and I dream about possible futures.

I don't think you realize just how much I miss you. Every time I see you in my dream, I wake up, wanting to just run to you and hug you as strong as I can.

I'm always so disappointed when I realize it's just my room. Dark, lonely, and really, really Uncertain.

The day you became suddenly unclear about your dad's situation was one of the worst days of my life. And you'll never know. Because if you would call, it would've been fine.

the day later was one of the most stressful days of my life. you were gone. I was alone. Our mutual friend told me everything. Maybe you'll know that one day. I cried. That you also don't know. I cried because you're dad wouldn't wake up , I cried because the doctors were out of options. I cried, and by god, I almost lost it. You'll never know I'd trade my life for his in a heartbeat. It's more important for me that you have a father, than another friend.

I don't think he's going to make it. We can keep pretending, acting, but I've seen this all before and I don't think he's going to make it.

Abby, you'll never know I think he's going to die.

And I think it will ruin a part of you forever.

And that scares me. That scares me so much. I'm scared that like in my dreams your family will become broken ,and you׳ll become just -sad. Your not staying the same after this, for Better or for worse. But you'll never know I think that.

You'll never know I just want to stop. Stop waiting, stop praying, just wanting to skip to the ending, no matter what it is. At least then I'd be certain. At least I wouldn't be so afraid.

I'll never tell you these because I love you. And I'd never hurt you.

I think some "good lying " is okay. That's where my boundaries are set.

So I'll keep pretending, lying I'll think he'll

come back to life. I'll keep lying I believe in miracles, and that god will absolutely come and wake him back to life.

Because I know that's what you need right now.

And I won't have it any other way.