Memoir-Dicle Yalcin

This is an essay whose aim is to show an emotional experience and to somewhat extent, an emotional journey. Its rather personal but still, it catches some sympathetic points which people might have encountered before. So, enjoy!It was dark foreign when I was sit down in my room hearing the speech sound of the peace that was dripping. I had been thinking ab step forward our last course of study of spending together in high inculcate and his graduation, recall what I had told him that I would be there for him. Noticing that I unplowed my promise well, and still doing so. There was a song vie low.

I?ve always loved September. Since the day I was born.

I knew about all the things my friends secretly planned for this birthday. The secret conversations, retard meetings and the smell of dark places that they planned to arrange... They were thrilled. I should have been exuberant. and Rafet was still not calling for at least celebrating. In my room I kept hopping with impatience. My orange dress was already ready.

?Girls, first we need to stop by at hotshot of my old friends?,? told Ece?s mother, looking at us.

?Sure!? currently the car stopped and I looked around. Only a quiet scream mixed with shock came out of my express. We were in nominal head of Rafet?s apartment.

?Is this some kind of joke?? I squeaked my with mouth wide open.

?No, it?s only a coincidence, don?t make it a big deal,? replied Ece, ignoring me. I was already out of breath.

Pull yourself together! Rafet is probably out with his friends!We stayed at Mrs. Tanoğlu for about an hour and Ece?s phone rang. She looked at me uncomfortably and went to the other room to talk.

The day I had told him that I care him, two hazel magical light bulbs were mesmerizing me.



Embarrassment, unsteady hands, the laughter, the smile, the comfort, the promise that zippo would be changed between us. Above all, the hidden rejection.

The days passed by and as time dissolved, the conversations between us kept getting shorter and shorter after eventually there were nothing left but the looks. He graduated from the elementary school and went to the next building, to a place where I would not regard him for a year. That year everything was different. My grades had dropped. I had run away from lessons, barely to walk to the high school building hoping to see him sitting on the desks near the window, wishing to catch a glance of him. I hardly completed eighth grade and that spend seemed to last for fifteen years.

Last forty days, thirty nightspot days, thirty eight days...

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