I am planning to go to Iran this Summer. I’ve waited for a long time. I think now it’s the time. To reach my old self and walk back to my childhood memories. Those were good years that I will never forget. Maybe going back could help me strengthen my mind. And I can feel less home-sick. I also want to see the faces of my people. I want to remember how it felt not having much freedom. I don’t want to be selfish and forget how people suffer.
When I go, to them I will be very different. To me they will be different too. But I’m still me no matter what.

This year I feel like I have grown more. My thoughts are more reasonable, more effective. I seem to see the world more openly. I feel a lot of change in myself from the past years. I am seeing the real world and feeling that my surroundings are real, life is real, at least now, and the future is in my hands. Yet the fear of the future does not leave. I am scared. Like I’ve always been of what is going to come and what will happen to me. Sometimes I don’t feel important, but I know I am.
I am less afraid of not understanding. When I don’t understand something, I let it pass by until I want to understand it. Some things have to be understood, others can be understood later. I now know my abilities, my strengths and my weaknesses. I know my talents and I know I am different than others, and it doesn’t bother me like it used to. I don’t care if I am not smart in a particular subject, I care about what I can do and what I know. I am not afraid of High school like I was on August 19th, I am afraid of the future.

I consider myself a very lucky girl. I have so many opportunities that many don’t. I have a future, sadly many don’t. I can make my own decisions, I have my rights. Yet so many don’t, many whom I know. I have the best parents in the world. And I mean that with all my heart and I will say it for the rest of my life.
My mom is a woman I love deeply. She went through a lot of difficulties in her life. She lost loved-ones, she went through a long term pain, she was without her children for five years, for no reason. She grew up during the Shah’s leadership, the revolution and eight years of war with Iraq. She never talks about her past because it hurts her heart and mind, I understand that. She is the strongest woman I have ever met.
My father is a funny,shy and a kind-hearted gentleman. He is very precious to me. When I was eight years old, he went to America. He had two big surgeries and was without his family for four years, alone in a strange world. A bigger world that had everything. Yet, with all the pain and all the loneliness he remained strong and never forgot to smile. He is the reason I am here. After four years my mom and I joined him. It was the best moment for all of us.
I have every reason to be happy, to feel lucky and to say that I want to live. I want to live even though things don’t always go right, even though life is hard. If I tell you of all the things I have, you might not think that I am that lucky since you might have more. But I am, at least to me. My family is the reason I am the luckiest. Without them I could never survive.

It’s Wednesday afternoon and I’m thinking wow, it’s already Wednesday! I have nothing else to say except one thing: tomorrow is another day!

I miss that place so much, it is driving me crazy. Everyday I think about it. Everyday I remember the 11 years that I spent in that place, with my family and cousins. Gosh, it was so long ago. Sometimes I think it must have been someone else, not me, who had lived there. I can hardly reach that other part of me. She is almost gone, the little girl who talked and thought in a different language. The little girl who thought the world is a perfect place. The little girl who didn’t even know herself. I wish she was still here. I wish she was here so I could refresh my memory of what my life was just 3 years ago. Yes, my memory still works, but someday it won’t. Some day I won’t even remember her. Was it destiny that brought me here? Perhaps it was.

Words are weapons we use every day. You can make a person happy by just one word or make them very angry, by just one word.
Words can hurt, but can also heal. You can express yourself with words, you can hurt a person’s feeling. So watch what you say.
Once you’ve said it, you can’t take it back. And SORRY doesn’t always work.

When my mom and I drifted with the ocean, we thought of many many things. We were in the plain, over the waters, thinking of my father. He, who had to leave four years before. We had waited and waited for four years. I hated it. I hated waiting. Waiting for something that was so far away. Too far in miles and too far in our brains. But it came, after a long while it came. I remember jumping in the air with excitement, but I don’t remember thinking what would become of me and us as a family. My dad was the one I cared about and wanted to see at that moment.
As we were drifting, I was filled with joy. The joy of seeing my father and the joy of a new country, whom many called it heaven. They said you’ll have everything, you’ll be free, you’ll be so happy there. That’s what they said before we came.
I hugged him tightly and kissed him on his cheek. He laughed and hugged us both. We had come a long way and were exhausted. But with my father, exhaustion did not mean anything. He was our strength.
After a few weeks I realized my life wouldn’t be the same. I had expected a house, a car and everything. But we had to work for it. It wasn’t the way I thought it would be. The way I wanted it to be and had imagined it for four years. I started feeling lonely, I longed for the rest of my family, for our old house, and our own mystery. The only thing that helped me survive was knowing that I was the luckiest girl for having things that others didn’t and for having the best parents in the world.