25th of February 2018

Dear Diary,
Lately I was absent. I have not written anymore. I have not read. I have not seen movies, serials; not even documentaries about the cats that I love so much. My life has become a continuous monotony that I madly dislike and that makes me want more and more that these three months will quickly and efficiently drain away. The school and the exams are obsessing me.
Still, I found the power to have a quiet Sunday with my sister. This Sunday was different. I felt different. I suddenly felt more mature.
I chose to go out with my sister for a walk through the city's Botanical Garden. It's my favorite place in the world - although I have not yet visited another country. It is my favorite place because it is so peaceful and full of nature, full of green, lively. I used to walk quite often with my sister, but lately, we both had things that kept us occupied: I - school, school and school again - and her - college, service and ... a future family .
As we walked silently across the alley near the greenhouse with exotic plants, she asked me a surprising question that left me a little confused. I looked at her, and I hesitated for a few moments, then I answered her briefly. She asked me what I would do after she would not live with us, our family, and I answered her honestly:  “I do not know yet.”. Well, I'm glad I will not share the room with her and, finally, I'll have enough space for me and my five cats,but that does not mean I will not miss her.
From that moment on, I remained connected to that question. It's like my whole universe will be guided by the answer to that simple question. I feel that the answer to that question was not only about her, but about everything that would change later in my life. The uncertainty of a safe future keeps me trapped in time, and it also gives me a new reality: I'm no longer a little sister. This frightens me more than anything and makes me feel a weight over my shoulder - that kind of soul weight that thickens your voice to annoyance and sets you up in action.
I felt at that moment that in that complete silence, in that ambiguous smell of various plants, a new self - a perhaps more independent one - was born.

I’ll write you soon,
Casper