I don't even know where to start. I'm not even sure where this is going.

I just know I had the need to write. So here we are.

As you may have noticed, this isn't a normal chapter to the book. It's just me venting my pain, because I haven't written a word in so long, and I just need to do it . I need to vent and vomit all these words on the page, cause I'm feeling so overwhelmed, and confused, and pained.

If you want the short narrative, here it goes: A teacher of mine died today.

There I said it.

Now, if you want the longer version, keep reading.

One of my favorite teachers, one of the few people that paved my life to what it's come to today, left this world behind.

Sudden death; just how most things are lately.

You see, she wasn't one of my favorites because I was her favorite. No. I was struggling in her class of English literature, simply because I was a foreigner among native speakers. But she pushed me to do better. She believed in me, in a way I didn't myself. And that's what made her so special and unique as educator and human.

I remember, we had this writing piece, where she stuck a picture on the white board; a white, full moon. We had to write anything we wanted, with that as a center piece.

I scratched my head, and wrote a quick plot line, before I started writing and writing.

My piece didn't win the competition.

A few months later, there was a second competition. This time she wrote the words on the white board: The sound of silence.

And I racked through my brain, imagined a whole story with that at the back of my mind. And wrote and wrote and wrote. My hand ached, but I tried to finish the story. Wrote the last word just before the bell rang.

I didn't win that competition either.

But the competition didn't really matter, as such. What did matter, were her words later: You know, I can feel the images you're trying to create, and I'm sure what you have in there, is worth putting in words on a page. But without the right words, without a rich vocabulary, you won't be able to make others feel your story the way you want them to.

At the time I was confused. And as a teen, I was frustrated and angry.

But looking back at it a few years later, I realized, that what she was actually telling me was, to read. Read and read, and dive deep into the world of stories so good and rich, so that my vocabulary could lent some of that greatness. And without knowing, I did just that.

It was pain that jumpstarted this very story. Emotions I had in me, trying desperately to come out.

I can't speak for the first couple of chapters, but if you compare chapter 1 and chapter 41, you'll see there's a significant difference when it comes to images and vocabulary. I'm not a 100% proud of this, but I was planning on doing a good job, editing this from start to finish, and then, when I was proud enough of myself, I'd take it to her and say, "Hey Ms. D, you remember telling me that? Well, I'm happy to tell you I actually took your advice to heart. And even though I'm no real writer myself, I hope this can properly take you to this new world I created in my head."

Funny how life does things sometimes.

Cause now, I'll never get the chance to do any of that.

And that fucking sucks.

You know, Ms. D was this amazing human being. She was so bright, funny, and smart. Could put even the troublemakers in their places. Without them even noticing, every time we had class together, it was a place of safe conversation, a place where it was safe to test the waters and grow.

Her classes were one of the most important building blocks in my life, and I'd be foolish not to admit, that my love for books stemmed from the way she touched her students' souls like she touched the pages of a dainty book.

God, there are so many things I'd like to say.

I know this is so random, and vague, and out of place. But right now, I'm so confused and sad and frustrated. I never got the chance to tell her all this, and I know I never will.

But Ms. D believed in Angels. She did. They guided her through all her struggles of her life, were her armor and safety net.

I'm so angry at them for taking her away.

But if they're really out there, and she's one of them now...

Then I just wanna say thank you. And you were right. And I loved you for all your honesty and strength and for guiding me and so, so many others, down a road we would be proud of.

Rest in peace Ms. D. And when you meet the others, the ones that left earlier than they were supposed to, kiss them for me.

Cause I miss them, too.

Be kind to yourselves.

~ J