A Teenager In America

I learned very quickly as a teenager never to say goodbye. Goodbye, I learned, is forever. It seemed like when ever I said goodbye to anybody they'd leave me, or die. I think of my teenage life in the US as sort of like that game where you stack up all the blocks and pull them out and hope the little tower doesn't fall down. My grandpa dying was the first three blocks. Those three blocks made me vulnerable to relationships with anybody who'd "love" me. Those relationships gave way to what I imagine another three blocks or so, at which point the tower became rather unsteady.

When I was 15 I met a guy in America, Marvin. He was only two years older, but he "loved" me. In the beginning, I thought it was all good, but it it only took a few months to start slowly slipping. Offhand comments about my religion, my political beliefs, my family and their beliefs. I stayed with him until I was 18. Maybe it was because I finally snapped. Maybe it was because I found what a man is supposed to treat a woman like. I suppose I'll never know for sure what made me do it. Maybe it was the last little comments he made.

The day I turned 18 I had a huge party. No one showed up. I ended up sharing pizza and candy with Leon and Eliana. I realized at that point who my friends really were. It still hurt that even though so many people had said they'd come, only two of them showed up. It made me wonder if I mattered to anybody. It was that night that I decided that if no one cared enough I wouldn't keep trying to please them and I would never fold to anybody else's demands again. That was the block that caused the tower to tumble. Over the next six months I proceed to do anything and everything I could to push my family and so-called friends away from me. I stayed out past curfew, I dyed my hair funny colours and I pierced everything I could think of.

Getting my friends to hate me was the easy part. I decided my family didn't need me anyway. I took a bottle of pills and went to bed. Eliana was the one, again, who noticed something was wrong with me. I was beginning to resent Eliana- I saw it as her fault that I had to be alive. I hated that, and yet, at the same time, loved her for it. After I'd been held in the hospital for two full weeks, I decided that I had to do something to get away from all of the memories and people. It was at that moment I decided I was moving to another country.

When I got home, I sat down at my desk and began contemplating where I was going to go. I drew all over my diary with a green magic marker. Not England. Too many memories there. I thought long and hard about where I was going. Then it hit me, I was Jewish. I'd fit in just fine in Israel. I had no idea what I was in for.