My Story

The Diary of a Girl with Dreams
Selections out of the end of her Diary…
December 15th, 1943
I feel as if, no one is listening. What can I do, but wait? I don’t want to wait… This isn’t fair. Who are they to determine my future? I don’t belong here. I committed no crime and therefore I should be able to return home. Home… What is home? Home is like the horizon. It is no longer within my reach. Home, I’m afraid, is nothing but simple ruins. I’m sick of feeling like an animal. I am not in any way, shape or form an animal but a young lady of fifteen, waiting for her dreams to come true. When they talk of liberation, what do they mean? Is it the day they finally come to their senses or is a day among all the rest
Who am I? I am but a figment of your imagination! Just, kidding. I must use my jokes on you, for I have no one else to talk to you. Diary, from this point on, I’m afraid you will have to suffer from my frustration. Mara, my beloved older sister, that you probably refer to as, “full of life” from my diary entries is now as weak as a newborn baby bird lying in a nest. The only problem is, is that I cannot be a mother bird. I am doing the best I can but I’m afraid it might not be enough. There, is still no word of my parents. You and Mara, I’m afraid are the only things I have left, dear friend. Even, the beautiful young bluebird that visited last Spring, that we talked about the other day, didn’t come back this Spring. I don’t blame it… When I sprout wings, I’ll be gone too.

December 20th, 1944

I’m surprised I’ve been able to hide you, thus far, to tell you the truth. You see, my family and I were found hiding in the Spring of 1943 in a small attic above one of our German friend’s houses in Krakow, Poland. Eventually, the Gestapo found us and dragged us away like barrels of hay. It was as if we were some kind of scum of the Earth. I don’t want to believe it, but somehow I can’t find some way out of it. We must have done something terribly wrong for them to behave this way… I just can’t grasp it. From day one, I have never shed a negative thought about anyone. In public, that is. The only place, I speak my mind is through you. Thank God, for that.

Diary, are you there? Sometimes, the silence takes over me and I can’t even bare to lift my pen. What did I ever do, to deserve this fate? The Germans in my opinion are no better than us, if that’s what the world has come too; comparing races till days end. Why must the world be in so much hatred? Why does Hitler hate me? Why can’t we all love each other like the Sun and I. Boy, do I love the sun… Through all the bad times in life, I’ve been able to depend on the dear sun. It has never disappointed me. It shall always come up for as long as I shall live, however long that may be. Everything but that shining star is so unclear. Will I ever be able to play with Franz, my neighbor, again? Will I survive another day? Will my life return to normal? Will Mara survive? Will the beautiful bluebird ever visit this darned camp again?

December 22nd, 1944
How are you? Oh, I forgot. You see, sometimes I refer to you as a person rather than a simple book I’ve been able to hide. Maybe the reason I confide in you is because I long for company. I long for someone to talk to like a long for the bluebird to return. Do you think I will get out of here? I sure hope so…
Yesterday, they made all of us girls work in the laboring center until I could feel my fingers crying. I miss the past. I can’t believe I’m saying it, because I used to be the kind of girl that always looked forward. Friend, what do I have to look forward to? Sometimes, I see no light at the end of the tunnel. I could of screamed when the crammed deportation train car dropped us off in the entrance to Auschwitz-Birkenau because that’s when they took Ma and Pa away from me, but I think I was just in utter shock. Mara and I both were… From there, we were then dragged to a room where they savagely cut our beautiful locks off and sent us to the labor camp. I guess, they call this stupid place, Auschwitz III. It’s huge and sometimes when my heart feels like escaping, my brain has to give it a sense of reality. There is no way out. The Germans are like vultures. They’re waiting for me and Mara to give up, but I will never let that happen. These people cannot crash my dreams! Who do they think they’re dealing with here? I am Jadyn! I am a poet, I am a daughter, I am a sister, I am a dreamer, I am a fighter, I am a survivor… There is nothing these horrid people can do to smash my dreams because I have you, my dear diary. If something were to happen to you, what would I do? Where would I share my thoughts? Would I let them rumble inside of me like fizzy soda in a pop bottle? Still, you cannot answer my questions. Someway, somehow, they must be heard beyond your humble pages. I cannot tell these things to Mara, for she has enough to worry about. She has to focus on surviving. Still, I must have my questions answered or I fear I will loose my mind before liberation. Have I lost it already?
Late December, 1944
I have lost track of the days. I don’t bother asking anyone for it, because the soldiers won’t tell me and the people around here have either gone bonkers or just simply don’t know. It is dreadfully cold and my socks have been stolen. I refuse to take Mara’s. She needs them more than I do. Some warmth is restored though, when people talk about liberation. I think I have a concept on what it means, now. I long to wear a pretty dress and have Mara curl my hair. I long for things to be like they were years ago… Back when, I took happiness for granted. I sure hope, I find the day out soon… It is important to keep track of these things. I have to find things to keep me occupied. I mean, finding food keeps me as busy as ever but my mind is at a blank. Back before the war, I had so much to think about. I had my future to thing about. Sitting here, among all these hurt people makes me so depressed because I realize how many people want his just as much as I. I realize how many dreams the Nazis have stolen. I can’t think about my future today because I know that tomorrow is even questionable. I need something to be happy about! The question is, what?
January 1st, 1945
I found the day! Aren’t you proud of me? Turns out, Mara new! She is an inspiration. Through everything she’s gone through with Typhus, she has still been able to take care of me, keep track of the days, and who knows what else! People talk of liberation more and more every day and I begin to wonder if Ma and Pa are thinking about me wherever they are. I wonder where they have gone… I don’t speak of these things to Mara because it just makes her more sad. It must be hard lying in a “bed” all day long, sick. She is getting better, though. She has always been great at recovery. I remember a day when she got a cold. The next day it was gone. It was magical, she didn’t even have to bother Mother.
Oh, I almost forgot! I’ve made a friend. Her name is Hannah. I met her in the laboring center the other day. She is so sweet. We talked or whispered, I guess you could say, about our lives before the war and how we were looking forward to liberation. She told me that she had two sisters. One had died a week earlier, of some bazaar fever. I gave her a piece of bread I had gathered, in hopes that it would make her feel better. She thanked me and told me she’d give it to her little sister, Abigail. I told her my sisters name was Mara and that she was recovering from Typhus. Never, in all the time I’ve been at Aushwitz have I made a friend. Mara has always been one, but I never thought I’d make friends here. I guess, I was arrogant in thinking that no one here was worth being friends with. That’s when I realized that most of my friends were in concentration camps and that there were many people among me with the same goal. We all wanted to get out of here. Hannah was very sweet and I promised to meet her sometime soon. It feels good to have a friend again. It’s as close as I’m probably going to get to a normal life until liberation.
January 11th
It snowed, and though the frost is extremely beautiful it has left many people shivering far worse than ever before. Do they have blankets in Germany? Do Germans ever get cold? If so, how can they deprive us from blankets? Even the worst of people would understand and provide the basic necessities of life. Necessities being, proper food, warmth and clothes. I never thought, that in all my years as a child, I’d have to explain that simple concept to an adult. I thought it was relevant. Theres many things I don’t understand about the Nazis and Hitler’s mind but I can’t go one talking about it, because I have better things to occupy your pages with.
For instance, a nice woman has lent me some socks out of the kindness of her heart. I told her my story and she told me hers. Apparently, she is the mother of Hannah. When I told her I had met Hannah at the laboring center she cried. It was a happy cry, I hope. Apparently, they had different room arrangements and therefore they had been separated since their arrival. I didn’t know if it was right, but I didn’t tell her the story of one of her daughters. I didn’t have it in me to tell her that one of her daughters had died. That’s a weakness I have. I can’t spread bad news. When I told Hannah I’d found her mother and that I hadn’t told her of the mis-fortunate sister she hugged me and told me, “it’s okay.” Hannah, is so understanding. She does nothing but listen to the “chatter-box” that I am and she asks for nothing in return. I wish more people were like Hannah. Perhaps, if Hitler had the heart that Hannah had our homes wouldn’t be in ruins.
January 22th, 1945
I can barely breathe. I am so happy. Hannah has heard of liberation more and more everyday. I think I’m almost jealous of Hannah. I still love her, but she is so lucky. Though, she has lost much more than I, she has definitely won much more hope as well. She knows of her mothers whereabouts and I know nothing. What are you going to do? All I can possibly do, is keep positive.
Mara is getting better. I told her of liberation and she smiled. Boy, is it lovely to see her smile. It’s hard to remember me before liberation. I can’t remember what I look like and to tell you the truth, it really doesn’t matter anymore. I’m sick and tired of admiring the past because it only makes me sadder. I have to look towards the future and hope for the best. I have to do it for Mara. I know she can sense my sadness, it is one of her talents. Ma thinks “she can read people.” I have to keep positive for her. She deserves that sense of happiness. Let’s hope it’s enough to get her to last till’ were liberated.
January 27th, 1945
Guess, what? We were liberated today! Today was the day that all of our misery is to be washed away. Everyone who survived is as happy as ever. What did I tell you? I told you I’m a survivor! When the Soviet troops came to Aushwitz and took us all to the trains that would take us home, Mara grinned. I have never seen her so happy in my whole entire life. I said my farewells, hugged Hannah and Abigail and wished them the best. They were reunited with their mother. It must feel extremely good to know where your mother is. I have never been without her, aside from this concentration camp. She has always been there. Like I said, I hope for the best. I hope that I will see Ma and Pa soon. That is all I can do.
On the train home, I held Mara’s hand. There is something so magical about Mara. It’s like she has a destiny. When that “sun-kissed” glow hits her face, she is truly worth writing about. Someday, I will be like Mara. When I look out a window, hopefully I’ll be something worth writing about. Hopefully, I’ll look like I have a destiny. I wonder what Mara wants to be when she grows up. She has so many talents, you see. Mother used to say she’d excel in anything. I am truly grateful to Mara. Without her I’d definitely be at a loss. She has given me the best friendship I could ever ask for and she is the greatest ro-model in the whole wide world. She has never given up on anything and unlike me she can speak her mind. She told me I should be an author. I think it would be nice to be an author and have people enjoy reading my books. It’s a way for me to express myself to other people without really having to speak my mind to people.
The German family that hid us, the “Smiths”, heard of Aushwitz’s liberation and were waiting for us at the train depot. I was so happy to see them that I started to cry. I am so emotional lately. I guess it’s because I haven’t so happy for so long. Mara on the other hand, has adapted quite quickly to her old life. She is back to her “lively” self again. Later today, we went back the train station to see if there were any news of my parents. It turns out, there was. Someone had news of my mother and told us that she’d be arriving soon. As if Mara and I couldn’t be happier, we got a phone call even later. The man on the phone was telling Mr. Smith about how he had befriended my father in camp and that he would personally accompany my father on the train to Krakow, once my father was well fed and ready to make the trip. Apparently, he was given little to nothing in his part of the camp for food. Mara and I feel so blessed to know our parents were are good hands. I will talk to you tomorrow, dear friend.
January 28th, 1945
Are you happy, that I have nothing to fill your pages with but utter happiness? The Smiths take us to the train depot everyday in search for our returning parents. Nothing yet, but we all have faith. It’s so good to have a normal life back and though I miss Ma and Pa dearly, I take comfort in knowing that they are nearby. Mara curled my hair today and the Smiths bought us both our first chocolate bar in ages. We found our bikes among other valuables and clothes we left at our home and are riding again. Mara and I love biking. It reminds us of all the joyous bike rides we had before the war. Ma and Pa will have their same little girls that they had before the war, when they get back! I’m so happy my stomach hurts! Mara, really thinks I should be an author now, with all the writing I’ve been doing. I can’t wait for Ma and Pa to return so that I can tell them of my future. I know they will be supportive as they always have been. I’ve been very lucky that way. Girls my age typically have futures thrust upon them. On the other hand, Mara, Ma and Pa have always supported my ambitions. Mara just offered to go on another bike ride. She insists that I get some fresh air “before I write my hands to sleep.” That just proves how much of a big sister she is to me. Maybe we will stop at the train depot again or buy a gift for the Smiths. They deserve even more than that for helping us survive and taking us in until Ma and Pa can arrange something. I will write soon, diary. Thank you for being there when all else failed. Thanks to you, I have kept my sanity despite the Nazi’s constant determination to take it from me. Thanks for listening Diary, even though you couldn’t ever answer. Someone listening was what I really needed.
~ To be continued…

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