The Saints Of Mibba
Receive Me.
Meditating on whether I am special or not was hardly ever in question as I grew up. I was what I was, a daughter of two people far from being culture people, far from having books as their lives. Far from ever having books in their hands, to be honest. I grew up as the sister shadowed by her elder sibling, a very meritorious girl. I grew up, naively wondering whether I will ever be close to making my parents as proud as she did. That was my biggest concern, as I grew, in the little Romanian town, considered the heart of Transylvania.
I grew up as the freaky person from the back of the classroom, who always did her homework for Literature and spoke freaky English. Freaky English, better said spoke English as a freak, because I proved, class after class, that I know more than what I am supposed to. I was, indeed, the freaky person that wrote weird compositions when assigned, among the very very few people that actually poured any soul or effort into writing what was considered yet another boring assignment given by that old, "know-nothing", teacher.
It took me a while, though, to realize, that writing was everything I ever meant and wanted to do. It took me a while to realize that pouring my soul into written word was everything that fulfilled me, mentally. It took a long time for me to realize that I longed to release all my emotions into that. Slowly I did realize it, and every free minute I got with a pen and paper, I would write a phrase, a lyric or two, a word that sounded beautifully.
Later on, not much later, months, I came to notice that English, Shakespeare's language as we like to call it, sounded much more melodiously than Romanian. So the phrases, the lyrics and the words turned from being written into Romanian, a language I still appreciate and cherish, to being written into English.
As years passed by, my concerns grew higher, because the moment of the exams that would get me into high school came. Exactly seven days before the dreadful day of the first exam came, the 11th of June 2007, I found out about a certain site. An Internet friend, (Shahle if you read this, thank you), told me about her story, how she had finished it and how she was ready to post it on a certain site named Mibba. Curiosity stroke and I reluctantly typed "www.mibba.com" into the address box. I didn't expect much, but the plain idea of a place where people post stories, attracted me.
I got here, and everything looked perfectly simple. It was as if I had been here for years, everything seemed easy. I created my account and wrote a few words about me on my profile.
I was in shock! Every Internet community I had ever joined had been cold to receive me, if not reluctant. Mibba, instead, received me with open arms! I got about two pages of comments saying welcome. I was over the top. I spent all the time to the exams here, posting the first chapters of a story here.
And then, the day of the first exam came. I was honestly frantic, I hadn't studied every topic I was supposed to.
Surprisingly for me, I did better than my sister had, eight years before. Surprisingly for me, I did not mess it up, though I had studied much less than what I was supposed to have had.
Six months later, I wanted to write this just to thank you Mibba, and implicitly, all mibbians, for the support, the care, and the fabulous source for Literature. You guys are the next generation of writers, and it's going to be one hell of a big generation.
I grew up as the freaky person from the back of the classroom, who always did her homework for Literature and spoke freaky English. Freaky English, better said spoke English as a freak, because I proved, class after class, that I know more than what I am supposed to. I was, indeed, the freaky person that wrote weird compositions when assigned, among the very very few people that actually poured any soul or effort into writing what was considered yet another boring assignment given by that old, "know-nothing", teacher.
It took me a while, though, to realize, that writing was everything I ever meant and wanted to do. It took me a while to realize that pouring my soul into written word was everything that fulfilled me, mentally. It took a long time for me to realize that I longed to release all my emotions into that. Slowly I did realize it, and every free minute I got with a pen and paper, I would write a phrase, a lyric or two, a word that sounded beautifully.
Later on, not much later, months, I came to notice that English, Shakespeare's language as we like to call it, sounded much more melodiously than Romanian. So the phrases, the lyrics and the words turned from being written into Romanian, a language I still appreciate and cherish, to being written into English.
As years passed by, my concerns grew higher, because the moment of the exams that would get me into high school came. Exactly seven days before the dreadful day of the first exam came, the 11th of June 2007, I found out about a certain site. An Internet friend, (Shahle if you read this, thank you), told me about her story, how she had finished it and how she was ready to post it on a certain site named Mibba. Curiosity stroke and I reluctantly typed "www.mibba.com" into the address box. I didn't expect much, but the plain idea of a place where people post stories, attracted me.
I got here, and everything looked perfectly simple. It was as if I had been here for years, everything seemed easy. I created my account and wrote a few words about me on my profile.
I was in shock! Every Internet community I had ever joined had been cold to receive me, if not reluctant. Mibba, instead, received me with open arms! I got about two pages of comments saying welcome. I was over the top. I spent all the time to the exams here, posting the first chapters of a story here.
And then, the day of the first exam came. I was honestly frantic, I hadn't studied every topic I was supposed to.
Surprisingly for me, I did better than my sister had, eight years before. Surprisingly for me, I did not mess it up, though I had studied much less than what I was supposed to have had.
Six months later, I wanted to write this just to thank you Mibba, and implicitly, all mibbians, for the support, the care, and the fabulous source for Literature. You guys are the next generation of writers, and it's going to be one hell of a big generation.
♠ ♠ ♠
by Boheme Shit.