Personal Stories from the Diaries of Women- Entry #3

At the age of 3, my mother and I boarded a Greyhound bus with nothing but a little hope for a new beginning after my father had left us behind. Using the clutched teddy bear, perfumed with the faint scent of vodka, I consoled my mother, wiping her tears with his tiny paw. I was reminded of how my dad's absence left an emptiness in my childhood, blending a deep longing with the painful reality of his struggles.

After my father broke the heart of my mother, I have felt each emotion that has come with it, and I have too much pride even to appreciate a boy. I listen to her advice, but her words contradict her actions. She says, ''You must never behave as if your life belongs to a man. Your life belongs to you and you alone.'' The deal has always been done, and the cake has been baked. But, I've craved solitude—the peace of fasting from others all along. I've always felt that I can only be tall because someone else was to be on their knees —the perspective of a daughter, never an individual. 

Gabriella A., 17 Years Old, Senior in High School

Written By Zoe Bantin