A Page from a Desperate Jew’s Diary

Here’s another day of me sitting next to a broken human expecting them to save me, pondering on life.

As if they have the answers.

Somehow I manage to laugh at myself, under my bedsheets, wiping my own tears.

Oh, what an aberration.

I am not only carrying the trauma of evilness and selfishness of today’s day and age and my next door neighbor, I am also a Holocaust survivor.

I am also a Jew in denial of every single tear that streamed down my eye.

I ask God for forgiveness.

I get that I deserve whatever I have.

In the weirdest sense, I am the most religious person with the most common sense.

But there is a door that keeps shutting every time I try to get out, because I am locked in a big, dark house where I’m trying to get out.

Somehow, when I get to the door, someone manages to lock it.

When I look at my feminine nails, and my crazy love for makeup, I remember that, after all, I am just a lady with curves.

I am this thing that’s made of atoms.

In a few years time, I will perish away.

I am that thing that maybe takes herself too seriously.

I sit under my covers, covered in blood and troubles that aren’t mine, wanting out; but someone, somehow, keeps locking the door.

About the Author
Anat Ghelber was born in Israel and moved to Texas when she was 13. She experienced anti-Semitism in public schools there. She moved to New York City when she was 20, and is currently studying for a Bachelor of Arts in Social Work. She started submitting articles to the Jewish Voice two years ago. In her free time enjoys writing poems. She's also a certified Yoga teacher with 200 hours of training who teaches in a donation-based studio called Yoga to the People in New York City.
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