This story is based on a true story… as always. I think I can not make a story up just because. It needs to be related to my reality. Anyway, it is not what I am going to write about.

What I am going to write is about how translating and studying a new language is not enough to survive. This happened to me in the first couple of months living in an English-speaking country (not my native language)...

When I was twelve years old, I thought I was ready for the real life. Just because I had been in a hard family situation I assumed I could do everything by myself. Even cooking. When I ignited the stove to make a simple tea, while all my family was resting, I realized how erratic I was. All the boiling water dumped in my right leg causing me second-grade burned skin. How would I wake up my parents...