I'm Leena. I'm twenty-one. I live in the city, alone, a nice apartment, had a sweat boyfriend, basically my life was perfect, until i witnessed a brutal murder. I've always wanted to write a book, something that can move people's emotions, that can give them a moral, entertainment, and inspiration. After the experience i had i thought that nothing could be more perfect for that cause. It was the perfect story, i thought that it would help me get over what happened. I would stop feeling what i used to feel, i would sleep again, i wouldn't jump every time a door slams, i wouldn't cry when i'm surprised, i wouldn't go to therapy, i wouldn't have to tell the story a million times and wondering if i left something, thinking about things i didn't notice, anything. In other words I would be normal again, but that was a fail, and sharing my story with the world didn't help, but i have to admit that writing helped a bit, the stress is off now, i got everything out, but i'm still suffering conflict.
You're probably wondering how i know that sharing it didn't change anything but the stress and that was the effect of writing, this chapter has been written after i finished the whole book, that's how i know.
YOU ARE READING
While We Wonder [#Wattys2015]
General FictionFour kids from different places have been touched, connected, or have an indirect relation with death. After, almost losing their last bits of hope, their hopes are renewed on the day of miracles, New Year's eve, when they all meet each other, conti...