Enter love, in the cruelest of places

Cue Matisyahu's "One Day"and "Jerusalem". Basically if you've been on a trip to Israel (which since none of you are jewish bloggers....so I just look like a loon at this point), you know that this is all that plays once you arrive home. Cue this semester. I'm taking both a creative writing class AND a holocaust lit class. Greatest duo ever because those are the things I am passionate about the super most-est (deal with my incorrect grammar).

If you've ever been bored and searched through my super sweet archives, you'd know I posted about my trip to Poland (via March of the Living) Also you'd know I've posted about stupid things like chairs and stuff that made no sense. But that was a long time ago and is the exact reason philosophers determined that the past is in the past.

Right so like I said, I have both of those classes. And the best [or worst] part about them is that I have the same professor for both. It's probably a bad thing just because I suck up (UNINTENTIONALLY) so so hard. I can't help that I'm really passionate about learning of the holocaust and just want to write about it, and talk about it. Almost always.  For instance, I think he got mad because a holocaust survivor is coming to speak to our class mid-semester and I told him I've seen him speak before. Teacher 0 Rachel 1.

Clearly I love writing, or else I wouldn't be on here writing. It's the whole one thing leads to another and if it didn't exist then I wouldn't be here type scenario. So in my creative writing class our homework is to write a poem about different topics he gave us, and I instantly chose fear. The feelings of going through a gas chamber and crematorium [At Majdanek, a camp that could be up and running in 48 hours TODAY)were and still are so vivid in my mind.  The story behind my poem is that I was having really bad anxiety on my trip because I have really bad anxiety sometimes when I shower (a story for another time. But all you need to know is that my anxiety and the holocaust intertwine). During the trip in Poland, my anxiety was at an all time high. Walking through history was both exhilarating and petrifying. At our last concentration camp we were visiting, I was emotionally drained. I walked in and out of the gas chamber faster than a blink of an eye. I walked through it. They had boards on the floor but seeing the blue stains on the wall (from the Zyclone B) had my heart fall into my stomach and churn for the whole time. I seriously sprinted out of there and just bawled for ever.

After calming down with the help of my friend Noah (hey, remember him?), I decided to join the rest of the group and calm the heck down. The answer to all my problems? Holding hands with Trudy, the Holocaust survivor on our trip. We walked into a barrack that turned into an art visual type place. It was dark. Yet Trudy, with all her strength for even being able to go back on this trip each year, she told me to look through the window the size of a peanut, and she saw the light. I then felt a sense of strength come through to me. I was strong.

@Auschwitz-Birkenau

We eventually made our way through the camp to the crematorium. This is where things change for the worst/best. Worst because it was the most horrifying moment of my life but best because I've had the ability to use my writing skills to express how I felt during it. All in all, Noah held me by his side the whole time and I basically wanted to lose my shit. We walked in and I knew I wanted out STAT. I told him I had to leave, seeing the fire's they threw people in. We tried finding the exit, and it was a serious maze. I felt short of breath, hopeless, and down right scared. All we had to do was ask, and within a matter of seconds we were outtie. I cried forever after, as you can only imagine. The thing that scared me the most was that I, too, felt like I wouldn't be able to escape, and it was only for a moment.

Thank you for reading this, really. If you've scrolled on to the bottom anyway, thankies. 
I wanted to share with ya my poem, just because...and it goes a little something like this...(shameless aaron carter reference)

Escaped Survivors

Eerie silence tapped me on the shoulder
Easily scared, clenching to feel a lovers heartbeat

Emotional ashes were sprinkled around my nightmare
Emptiness.

Eventually I need to stop

Eager to escape

Could I get out?

Effects of fear filled the air.

Ever so slightly breathing, deep breathes and gasps
Exam the walls. The color, the smell.

Everything blowing in the wind, the history

Echo’s of the past, please no round two

Embarked on a journey with questionable endings
                                                                        Would I get out?

Enthusiastically hopeful, I was in a maze
Even he stayed courageous, I was safe by his side

Enter love in the cruelest of places
Enemies on Earth,
End.

@Majdanek....See me at the top right corner? Next to Noah in the black

If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out! I love talking about my trip!

The fork in the road (blame my GPS..)

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both"

-Robert Frost

I never get a full dose of inspiration when reading poems; I usually just look at them, think of how deep they were to the writers, try to figure out the symbolism, then peace the heck out [because class is finally over]. Not this poem, though. The Road Not Taken is my shit currently.

When have you had to make a tough decision between two important (possibly life changing) things? Do you take the path that you know how things will turn out? The "smooth sailing", the comfortable because I know what to say/feel/do at that moment in time. Or do we find ourselves taking chances (cranking on the Dave Matthews, FYI) and take the left fork in the road. The one we were warned about. But we do it for the thrill. Is there at any point in our journey that we realized we probably should have taken the other road, but now we can't go back. If we tried, I'm pretty sure my chances of injury would be severe.

How do you know you will pick the right road? When will you know? Is it at our final destination we sit down to think. What if we regret? I don't want to regret, but then again I don't think anyone does.

Robert Frost states (for whatever reason/situation) he took the road less traveled and that made all the difference. Will the less traveled,less familiar path that I choose be my answer? My forever? Or my 'just for now'? I know Robert Frost isn't my spirit animal, hero, or someone I "hit up on the celli" when making daily decisions, but I guess it's truly all about gut feelings. 

I'm pretty sure I'm just awkwardly stuck at the fork because my damn bitch of a GPS has me confused as to which way I truly want to go. Help?