I was divided between two worlds for some time and struggled with myself whether to come back or not. Be with him or be with me.
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Some people supported me, some people judged me. Irresponsible, ungrateful, such a bad daughter, they called me. Abandon your family when they needed you most. Live your life, not mine, said my father. I did. And I thank him for this. I was in Serbia for four months, together with another 11 great guys; I should say all of us having their lives a bit fucked up.
Everyone came to solve a problem. To find oneself.
Meaning of "calci" in the Romanian dictionary
To analyse oneself. To make a change. In his life.
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In the others. I was not sure why I was there or what my mission was. I met strange people. These guys I was leaving with for 4 months… they were all kind of strange people. We people are strange, in fact. Have inner conflicts.
Too many. Project them on the others. Too much. But nothing compares to the exchange of human emotions. Every day, every person I met was a challenge, ever so rewarding. I challenged myself. I started positioning myself in all sort of extreme situations that challenged my social, physical and psychological skills.
I was a bit borderline. A bit blue.
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A bit crazy. A bit interrupted between dream and reality. I am not sure yet if at the end of this journey I found the border between the two. Never believed in borders, anyway. What I know is that I grew up. The people around me were growing up and I was growing up along. I was a volunteer, but volunteer for what? For peace and understanding, for conflict resolution, for diversity promotion…such big words…I was just a human being, as the others there.
As the young volunteers there. Not wiser, not cleverer but just trying to make friends with those people. I might not have got the aim of the project Scriptamanent 4. You, who have been there, you all know them. You know how important it was for them to show you really care. You are not there for doing your job. You are there to be human.
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I learnt to share and I taught the others to share. To share stories and listen. Learn from the others. Learn from the young ones. Learn from the old ones. Learn from the other cultures we look down on.
Grow up. Be a better person. Too high standards. But not so difficult to attain. I came there with mistrust in the human race. I came there almost with despise. In life, one should start from the premise that people will more probably conspire against you, rather than with you. What to do, everybody has some problems, and I had them too. I over-analyse things, and I did the same with people in Serbia. I was sometimes just sitting and silently x-ray analysing you all. Passing judgements. To myself. Trying to figure out the human behaviour which is so illogical and confusing.
This made me suspicious to some of you, untrustworthy. I am sorry. The people there, nevertheless, showed me their rawest feelings, as true as rarely people have shown me. They gained my trust by simply being themselves. I succeeded in being myself with everybody due to all these people. Due to their Serbian hospitality.
And not human essences. I experienced all feelings.
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I made friends. I helped others make I felt fulfilled when at the end I could clearly see some practical achievements of my stay there in a definite improvement in the development of some of the volunteers.
I shed tears of joy, and tears of pain, I did everything you do in a normal life, strain ankles, go to the dentist, make love, laugh, play football, eat, drink, pray, talk. Having others do this for me. And many others. The difference was that I was doing them with a bit of selfishness, experiencing, looking at myself, looking at the way I am changing, making myself the main character of the story. My story. In which Serbian people, people I had known for just one month cared about me, showed love and offered help.