Kinda angsty in the end


School started a few weeks ago again after Christmas and New Year. Yaaaay. That was irony.

It's not like I don't like school, I just think sometimes we're learning things we are never going to actually use. Also, math.

Well, at least we're not currently learning what George or Ashleigh are now learning - I looked in their notes when they brought them to the last world meeting in the hope of passing their semester exams. George is almost 17, Ashleigh 15 and half. I don't know how can they understand it. When I asked Ashleigh, she said "We don't." Oh.

How about my dads and school, you ask? Vati will carefully look at my results and ask me if I need help with anything - and I mostly say I do, even if I don't, because I understand it better from him. And when I get it right, he looks at me like- like I'm so smart and bright and I just feel so loved. Vati's this type of a person - not really expressing his affection publicly, but in those rare moments you just know.

Papa's completely different. He hugs me and cuddles me all the time, even though I'm a big girl now and don't need cuddles that often. But you know what? It feels real nice, so I ain't stopping him. (I hope I'm using the slang right.) And him and school? Yeah, he could only help me with cooking or painting, and those are the subject that we don't get any homeworks on, so...

Class meetings are something different completely. Vati always acts like they're the most important meetings, and Papa has to scold him (lightly) for taking it too seriously. They're mostly going both, because if Vati went alone, he wouldn't know how to interact with other parents, and Papa alone would mean lost documents the parents got, and no information on the school actions and trips whatsoever. He'd just forget it.

And school trips - dear Jesus. They'd call and write letters every day. In first grade it was really uplifting, now it's just mildly annoying. Yes, I AM alright, I didn't break any bones or drown in the lake (which was too shallow to drown in the first place). I mean- I'm glad they care, but they might be overdoing it at times.

Though I think I know the reason. You see, it's not- normal? Common? Ordinary?- for countries to have children. And I mean children that do not represent another country/micronation/part of land and its people/whatever. Like me. And if they do, the child is mostly sickly, weak, and dies soon.

But I didn't.

I'm still here. And I'm not planning on leaving anytime soon. I wish they understood I'm not about to vanish. I'm not about to leave them. Never ever


From the diary of Griselda Vargas-BeilschmidtWhere stories live. Discover now