The weather was still disturbed; the direction of the winds remained just as fierce, the vortex of clouds was in full force, and the sky was covered with dark, dark clouds.
Since morning, the weather had taken on an even more terrifying form, as if signaling some looming calamity.
I took a different path from home and let my steps drift toward the place that gave me peace—the place of peace, my secret place of peace.
Climbing the steps, I reached that open spot on the small hill, a park‑like space from where one could sense the entire city's bustle.
The trees draped in red blossoms here used to grant me a different kind of peace, and the red petals scattered on the ground lent my heart a softness.
These birdsong echoes, the open sky, and a tranquility that soothed the soul—yet today, all of it felt somewhat changed.
The restlessness within me, this strange magnetic pull I was feeling—neither the trees, nor the flowers, nor the birds were able to give me peace or solace.
There seemed to be a peculiar struggle in the very weather itself—or perhaps it was my inner turmoil unfairly blaming the weather.
Outwardly I was completely calm, yet deep inside a whirlpool of fear, restlessness, sorrow, envy, conflict, attraction—thousands of questions—was devouring me.
My calm was merely a veil to hide these emotions, a veil they could sweep away at any moment. I screamed at myself—why?
I can't call them my friends, nor anything else. Is it my fault again?
Isn't it their fault this time?
Perhaps I tried my utmost to be a good friend.
I sat beneath the same tree, rested my head against its trunk, and in a loud voice let cords of words drift—
Someone, tell me where I am.
Someone, give me my address,
Someone, tell me if my path is right or not.
I fear dreams,
I fear the wishes tied up in that small bundle,
I fear… my own people!
Am I a gust of wind or a whirlpool?
A tiny flowing stream or a mountain sunrise ?
A blooming flower or a surging wave?
Who am I, what am I—someone, tell me.
On whose shoulders do I weep, whom do I seek on the roads to find the way,
Who am I—really?
The winds seemed to have quickened their pace; leaves swayed to their rhythm, and countless petals wandered the air, seeking their own paths.
My voice merged into those winds. Apart from me, only the trees were here—perhaps they alone could understand the sorrow, tangle, and pain within me, perhaps they alone could behold me with pure eyes.
A weariness was washing over me—a weariness that was burying every desire in the soil. The city's lights flickered in the distance, while the light within me was slowly closing its eyelids.
My stomach was aching badly, and my head felt quite heavy. I don't know how long I sat there, gazing at the trees, before I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up a little later, night was approaching. I felt very weary—an odd sort of exhaustion. My head was still exceedingly heavy. I picked up my bag and began to leave.
There was no change in the weather; everything was exactly the same—neither the direction of the winds had altered nor the whirl within me, nor the emptiness.
I descended those steps and started toward home.
After a while, I reached the same road where this turmoil had been born. My steps carried me on, and I stopped in front of the house.
I was utterly exhausted; a suffocating feeling pressed on me—as if one more mistake and I would tumble into a chasm.
Wiping my eyes, wearing a mask of calm on my face, I went to my room. By God's grace, no one paid much attention to me today.
A peculiar fatigue was weighing on me—one that lived inside.
After bathing, I lay down in my room, and some memories began to drift before my eyes.
Freya, you're the best girl, Sifra's laughter-filled voice.
Who wouldn't want to be friends with a girl like Freya?
Freya, you're our best friend, Elish's voice.
Freya, she is a headache.
Freya, I am like your brother, Hugo's voice.
Today, it's just you and me, enjoy.
Freya, why don't you refuse them, why do you always agree with everything they say, Adri's grumpy voice.
Freya, with a smile, "I have no problem."
Thinking all of this, I don't even know when I fell asleep.
I didn't go to school for two or three days, hiding in a corner of those four walls.
I didn't want to go, nor did I feel like speaking.
I just stood by the window in my room, gazing at those red flowers. That's when, like a current, a wish arose inside me—to play music, something I hadn't touched in a long time.
Yes! I love playing music, but due to my bundle of wishes, I had abandoned it. But music is a melody that's connected to my soul. Even though I wanted it, I couldn't stay away from it.
I took out an old, inexpensive guitar from my secret spot, one that I had bought with my own money, and stood by the window, gently playing it. The music, in this whirlpool of emotions, wrapped my pain in a melody of thoughts.
As I was playing the music, I suddenly felt like someone was at my door. I could clearly hear the sound of footsteps approaching. "Hey, go inside and ask Freya what happened?" A heavy voice, but with a softness to it.
Why should I go? i don't care, and she's always like this, a thin, whispery voice.
"if you don't care, then just leave. you cared that drunken guy, right? By the way, which one is now this month?"
"Who are you calling a drunk? Do you know how many girls are after him, and he chose me? again thin voice Yeah, if you'd focused as much on your mind as you do on your looks, you wouldn't be dealing with a drunk today." A quiet chuckle followed.
Then, a slap sound, as if someone had been slapped. "If you had focused more on yourself, maybe today you'd have something too."
Then another angry voice: " have I asked you!"
Another voice, but I had already explained.
Then the sounds of fighting began.
I left my music and opened the door. Outside, my brother and sister were standing. My sister was scolding my brother, and my brother was getting hit. As soon as they saw me, their faces froze, as if I were the thief and they were the ones whose house I was robbing.
I stood there with a calm face, without saying a word.
Seeing me, they stood still, and my sister began acting like a madwoman. She quickly took out her phone and started talking to someone (pretending) as if I had no idea. Then, giving my brother a irritated look and a strange glance at me, she walked away.
My brother made a face as he watched her leave, muttering something, probably calling her "fool." Then he looked at me. His face had a carefree smile.
"Hi, Freya."
I didn't say anything.
"Oh, Freya, are you upset?"
I just nodded.
"It's about mom, right? Don't pay attention to mom's words, just ignore it."
I just kept looking at him, wondering what he was mumbling about, which made me smile a bit.
"Freya, if you want, the three of us can go out tomorrow."
I was startled by his words because we never go anywhere together.
I didn't respond. Maybe by looking at my face, he understood something.
"Don't worry about her, she's crazy, that's just how she acts."
I looked at him and said softly, "I don't feel like it."
But maybe he didn't hear my response, because he was now talking to someone on the phone with a big laugh, and after giving me a 2-minute sign, he left.