Chapter 1

We all know what it's like to be born. You stay in a womb for 9 months, you got all you need, and you don't quite want to go out in the cold and be made to cry the first moment you learn how to breath. I think life is cruel. Our ancestors (the Traci - ancestors of the Daci) used to cry when a baby was born, and laugh and party when someone died. They thought that it's better that the person passed away in a better place, not here. I guess I can relate to that experience, and someone it makes more sense what they used to do, rather then what culture we have now.

But regardless of that, I was born in a hospital in Bacau, and the reason to why I wanted to write about this is that during the time I was pulled out (by force, cause i liked it there, my mom always says), i was the only girl born in a period of a couple of hours. After the doctor pulled me out, my mom always says that he said "Look, the princess!". Exactly because I was the only girl there for a couple of hours, or maybe even half a day. There were 3 or 4 boys born that night, but i was the princess.

I guess I was a bit lucky, but my luck ran out after 3 years, cause then my parents decided that they cannot understand each other, and they divorced. I know all you guys know the sad story, in which there is a drunk and violent dad, and the rest of the members of the family hate and are afraid of him. Well, it's that sad story, but i think that it has a better ending than expected. My mom and dad used to say to me that there were periods of time in which they used to steal me from one another.

At around 6 my age, mom married again, and after a year, came my little brother. As God is my witness, i love him now as a brother, but when i was 7, i hated the little bugger, but he wasn't to blame. Friends of my moms and my brother's father used to visit and they used to bring diapers and baby formula, and for me, if i got a pet on the head it meant that they saw me. That is the worst thing you can do to a kid which is 7 years old, used to be a single child, preferred, loved and called cute by everyone, to ignore her and forget she ever existed. I felt like my existence was nothing compared to Ale (my brothers name is Alex). I hated the little brother with all my 7 years old power, even ate his baby formula as a protest. Dude, when someone has 2 kids, you buy stuff for both of them, regardless of age.

But by the age of 8 i was kinda a part time babysitter, i spent a lot of time with my little brother, but things went bad between mom and my brother's dad, and so, when i was 9, my mom was divorced a second time, and i was sent to live with my dad, in the center of the city.

I guess i understand the decision, it was the best one at the time, i got to grow up with my grandma, and that lady thought me all she knew best: how to behave, how to speak to elders, how to respect people, and thanks to her, i felt like home. I got to be a single child again, and my brother has a much more fucked up story than mine, but with a happy end as well. Now he lives with mom in Italy and he is happy, has no worry, and has the best sister one can ask for - the covering one. I cover all i can, and listen to him, i hope i am his best friend, and he knows he can count on me whenever he wants. So i guess life lessons are meant to be learned, and he did, so did i.

But it's not his story i wish to share here, it's mine. Childhood ended for me at the age of 11, when things got serious, and i had to live through a phenomenon that happens in Romania a lot: no good jobs on the market (they were all hard to reach and you needed to know the right people to get a good job) - due to communism, people thought that there will always be a governing system that will provide jobs, that backfired... Anyways, i was saying that there were no good jobs, no way to earn money, how can a parent provide for her children? Well, today we have thousands of kids left with their grandparents because their parents off to work in a different country - which happened here as well. Mom went to Italy to work there a medium job, but paid 10 times better than here, and be able to provide for me. I was 11, and frankly, i never forgave her for it. I understand what she did, i respect her decision, but a kid kinda needs a loving parent, not a bank.

But what can a 11 year old do? Ask for explanations? Protest? Nope, you create a abandonment issue and move on. Eventually, if you're smart enough, one day you will work with it, and see if you can get rid of it. That is why i say that my childhood kinda ended there, i had to realize that things are more complicated than what i can grasp, and start acting the role i was supposed to have: a mature young lady.