Entries for the Literary Contest Iria's Smile II

Iria's Smile II

A true "like" A young child used to live in a small country, a place that was full of liars. People in the country only said to others that they appreciate them to get along with them, but sometimes their smiles seemed so fake that it was uncomfortable and weird to stay with them. The child was upset with the lies that people said until he finally found that there was a person who could give him real "like", it was his teacher. A person who decides to teach others to tell them the truth and not to get along with them. Eventually, the child realised that only people who can give a true "like" to others are those ones that also can give a true dislike. By Arancha Bombín 1S

UNSPOKEN WORDS Sometimes closing our eyes&nbsp; is more than enough to see beautiful things&nbsp; and when he closed his, the only thing he could see was her. She was brilliant on the outside but&nbsp; the things underneath her were even better. Everybody wondered how&nbsp; such a melodic voice could deliver such powerful words. &nbsp;How her smile conveyed the truest happiness &nbsp;when her eyes had spilled every tear in the world. But more importantly no one seemed to understand&nbsp; how such amazing ideas could come from the simplest mind. And maybe that was the best thing about her.&nbsp; With those thoughts who wouldn't want to pay a visit to her mind? He never got to tell her any of this but if he had it would have been the best compliment someone ever said to her.&nbsp; By Andrea Gonçalves 1B

actually? These apps are built in such a way that we are forced to look at and envy other people's lives regardless of whether that projection is real or not, and envy is such a powerful feeling to play around with… -The thing is that, as you’ve said, it is pointless, but not in the same way as any of the other things I’ve said before, being out here with you… It's pointless in the raw sense of the word, we won’t gain anything tangible from being here by looking at cars. But it makes me feel human, and that’s what matters, I know this is real, social media on the other hand… the networks that are supposed to be in charge of human connection just so happen to be quite lacking in the whole “human” area. -That’s it! It just straps humanity away from people, they become shells of what a happy person is supposed to be like, to be or not to be liked, the number of followers, comments, all of those things slowly tear your sanity away and you only want more and more, it's an incredibly elaborate strategy and we are falling for it… -So, will you do something about it? She stayed quiet again, I panicked a little, thinking that I might have been a bit rougher than what I should have, I hadn’t really noticed until then but I realized that social media had taken its toll on me and I was spending way too much time on it instead of investing that time on myself or others, and from the way she looked while talking about it, I could tell that she was also quite distressed due to social media.

While I was in the thick of that thought experiment, she suddenly did something that would earn my heart forever. She took her phone, turned it on for the last time, and with much hesitation threw it across the highway, being shortly after run over by the nearest car. I, engulfed by passion and a lack of sobriety, did the same. -I’ve just realized I’ve thrown away my phone for you and I still don’t even know your name. Have I, at last, earned that information? -Gina, and yours? -Gabriel. -That’s a cute name. Before I could come up with an answer to that, she leaned her lips closer to mine, and the rest is history. I then realized that the best “like” someone could give to someone else is the “like” that’s never been spoken or told, not by words anyways, but by actions, it takes courage to give a “like” that’s worth it and not achieved by pressing a screen, but the good part is, those are the ones that stay with you forever. By Carlos Pedrero 4S

What began as landscapes, continued to be photos of me, and by having the account public in just a few weeks I began to gain many followers from all places. I uploaded practically everything and they enjoyed that. They used to say that I was very close with them and made them feel as if they knew me in person, and those nice comments made me feel great. Therefore it was a never-ending story, I shared my life to entertain the public and they praised me by saying nice things. At first, everything was really great: I received a salary, and although it wasn't much and it allowed me to buy myself a whim. People on the street asked me for pictures and made me feel like I was a Hollywood superstar. But as always, all good things come to an end and my little perfect and pink world was not going to be less. Anonymous accounts started insulting me in the comment box, which I didn't pay much attention to at first. Over time, those accounts multiplied and my followers dropped, so there was something in me that broke and I began to get obsessed over the number of likes and followers on my account. I stopped meeting my friends, I lowered my academic performance, I hardly slept, and all to try to recover the likes I lost. Those anonymous accounts ended up attacking my physique and since my Instagram account had become the most important thing in my life, I stopped seeing through my eyes and was only able to see through the eyes of those who were mad at me. I did very strict and extremely dangerous diets that made me lose weight drastically. I thought that by losing weight all the nice comments would come back, but it was not like that. People who want to harm you will never be satisfied. My friends realized about those comments and the change in

my personality and physique. By not eating I just had no strength, they decided to act. They were the ones who saved my life. One day they took my cell phone, turned it off and took me in front of a mirror. They asked me what I saw, and in that moment of weakness I saw the reality, that girl wasn't me. Where were my smile and my passion for life? Where had that teenager who dreamed of traveling around the world and who had never cared what anyone said about her gone?That was the moment I decided I couldn't go on like that, I didn't want to have to depend on what anyone thought of me. So I did it, I closed my Instagram account and started going to a psychologist who helped me recover my happiness and my life before. I am telling my story because fortunately, I can. Thousands of young people are not stopped in time and have a horrible end only because of the comments of people they do not even know in real life. It seems crucial to me that those who are suffering as I did know that there is a way out and that there are many people who will accept you the way you are no matter what happens and will love you no matter what. My conclusion is that, please, before sharing your life, think if you really want others to see your whole life or just a small part of it. By Marina Cotrina 3S

ONE LAST MEANINGLESS LIKE 1 18:00 pm. At the psychologist. Mr. Harris, whose monotonous voice I had been hearing for half an hour straight, was sitting across the table, looking intently at me. The room we occupied was spacious and spotless. The opened window in front of me had been so well cleaned up that I could barely notice its existence. Everything was quiet except for the distant sound of the wind which made the leaves rattle outside. Mr. Harris was dull. I knew that since the very first time I saw him, though that had just been half an hour before. He had a low-pitched voice and talked too slowly for somebody to not fall asleep during his sermon. That's why, somewhen during his endless speech, his words had been drowned by my distant train of thought. What the hell am I doing here? That was the first question to make me leave the phenomenal world. And I thought that it could only be answered by my parents, who were the ones to have me go to that wretched room in the first place. I kept wondering what I could have possibly done so wrong to end up where I was. And then... "Do you understand what I am trying to say, Henry?" I jumped slightly on my seat, suddenly being aware of the reality that surrounded me. It's funny how the human defense mechanism is activated by a raising question the same way it is activated when a deadly threat approaches. "Errr..., no I don't", I said, so that he would repeat whatever on Earth he was saying.

window, just to end up breaking another window glass on the building on the other side of the road. It broke in a million pieces, just as it had happened at the psychologist, and the owners of the apartment looked equally thunderstruck, noticing there was nobody in the street. "GET THE F*** OUT OF MY HOUSE", she roared. I became suddenly paralyzed, dreading that she would kill me after what I had done to her. Had it not been for her brisk reflexes, I could have possibly murdered her. Charlotte noticed I was not moving and did something I would never forget. She took my caseless phone, which was lying on the table, and threw it out of the window with the same intensity I had thrown the rock, but aiming at the floor to make sure it was unfixable. It was an iPhone 13 Pro Max, the latest phone that Apple had launched. I felt an explosion of emotions then, but did not have time to show them because once again she said something that had me paralysed. "I BUY LIKES", she hollered. "I BUY LIKES AND FOLLOWERS THROUGH SOME WEBSITES, AND I THOUGHT THAT WOULD BE OBVIOUS FOR YOU." Her tone of voice started dropping and turning melancholic as she said the following. "I thought that would help me make new friends more easily, but I was mistaken. People's "likes" don't matter one tiny bit if they don't actually like you in person." She made a small pause, and then added: "That's what people like the most about their friends, how they truly are, not what they post on social media." All the anger I had been storing during the last minutes started leaving my body, and I was suddenly deflated, feeling more empty than ever. My phone was dead and soaked under the heavy rain, and that meant I would be disconnected from my

social media for a really long time, as my parents would definitely not buy me another one after what had happened. Later, when I walked back home, I would realise a feeling of freedom that the lack of a phone would confer me, and would overwhelmingly notice the complete stupidity of taking so seriously something so meaningless as likes on social media. "I didn't mean...", I started, but she interrupted me. "Get out", she said sharply. I took my backpack and left with a great feeling of guilt. 5 19:00 pm. Walking back home. I headed towards my house, hooded under the rain. I was so lost in my thought that I barely realised that my socks were soaked, something that always annoyed me very much. I kept hearing over and over Charlotte's words in my head. I buy likes, she had said. I had never imagined something like that could possibly happen, and it changed my conception of social media and its functioning. If something such a purchased “like” existed, what would be the point in counting them? How on Earth can likes be meaningful to anyone if they could have been sent from a false account? And then I remembered the other thing she said. People's "likes" don't matter one tiny bit if they don't actually like you in person. Being really "liked" might not imply people actually like you. And all this time, I had believed that likes were really meaningful, and hence I had taken them very seriously. As if I had some kind of...Obsession.

Amy got close to her. "Is that notebook yours?" She looked at Amy for a few seconds and answered, "Yes, why? Have you seen what's inside?" She looked a little bit nervous "Probably she didn't like them and she is going to tell everybody about me and I will never be famous!" "Yes, I saw them. I'm sorry if it was private but I love them, you are so talented. I think you should become an artist. "Amy said. "Do you really think that?" She smiled. "Of course! You should have a youtube channel of your drawings, you will have lots of followers, I'm sure!" "I already have one, but no one seems to like it. I don't even have a view" "I think I can change that. I will tell all my friends about you," Some weeks later, the video had hundreds of views and likes. She was very happy and she decided to make a channel to teach how to draw so everyone enjoyed drawing as she did. By Raquel Malagón

A TRUE LIKE She kept staring at the phone for a long time, maybe minutes, maybe hours. But nothing, not even a view. She was sad, but at the same time disappointed because that drawing had taken her five hours. She didn't even do her homework. And it all came out to be a waste of time. Somehow, she was already expecting that. "Why would an unknown girl become famous just for a video of her silly drawings? She thought. So she decided just to leave it and think about something else. "A video doesn't become viral the first day". So she waited until the next day. When she went to school and walked into the class, she wanted to tell everybody that they had to see her video, but she was kind of afraid they didn't like it. Later, when the classes ended, no one seemed to have seen the video. She was very sad. She just wanted to go home quickly. She went so fast that she forgot the notebook where she used to draw. Amy, one of her classmates, found it. It didn't have a name So she opened it to see what it got. When she saw all the drawings, she thought: "God, these drawings are wonderful! I have to know who they are from. I'd like to draw like this and maybe this person could teach me". Amy kept looking at each drawing for a while. She was amazed. Every little detail was in the drawing. They were so realistic you could think they were photos if you looked further. The next day, Amy left the notebook on a table and waited until someone caught it so she would know who the owner was. Some people passed by, but they didn't take it until a girl saw it. She ran to the table and took it as if it were a treasure.

We were silent for over a minute, trying to assimilate what had just happened. "I think that was just enough for today", Mr. Harris concluded at last. "I will see you next Friday, and hopefully by then this mess will have been fixed. Think about what I told you before". 2 18:15 pm. In Charlotte's house. Her desk was covered with books and sheets of paper. Charlotte was studying the mesmerising world of Calculus while listening to Mozart. Every now and then, she would open a book and flick through its pages, looking for the formula to some problematic derivative or integral. Time passed faster than ever, and by the time Mozart started performing Alla Turca, she was almost done. No sooner did she finally complete the last exercise than she remembered what was going on that day. Henry was going to come over at half-past six to do a physics project. Even though they had been classmates for several years then, they had never get to know each other, and Charlotte felt nervous about it. That's why she opened Instagram on her computer to take a look at his latest posts. It took her just a fraction of a second to find his account; he had a nice amount of followers, it turned out. However, looking at his photos, Charlotte felt like he had built a fake ideal identity that did not depict his actual personality, but that of a "perfect" influencer. She believed he was not like that in real person, though that she would discover in a couple of minutes. It was an artificial and unnatural account. How idiotic he is... she thought, not brave enough to show how he

truly is, hiding his actual personality only to boast about the number of his even-more-idiotic followers. After a couple of minutes of stalking his account, she decided to post a photo on her own account. She took her phone, took a photo of some mathematical incomprehensible definition and in the description she typed: "studying Riemann sums ♥". Just before uploading the photo, a couple of advertisements popped up. One of them was especially striking for her. It had the title "PsychCare: we offer psychological therapy for mental relief". Instagram's algorithm is definitely broken, she thought. What kind of weirdos go to the psychologist, I wonder? Then, she began tidying up her room. Henry would arrive at any moment. 3 18:20 pm. Henry leaves the psychologist. Jesus, what a day, I thought. I went down the stairs and left the building through the back door so that nobody would see me coming out of the psychologist. The last thing I wanted was to be seen there. Everyone knows only weirdos go to the psychologist. Upon leaving the building, I headed towards Charlotte's house. I had a meeting with her to do a physics project. Since I barely knew her, I decided to take a look at her latest posts on Instagram and was surprised by how boring her profile was. All her posts revolved around school stuff, books she had read and weird mathematical formulas. "Jesus, what kind of a freak

THE REALITY OF LIFE 15th July, 8:00 pm I had just finished eating dinner and I was preparing myself to go out with my friends when the most horrible phone call I could ever think of happened. It was the police, they told me my parents had been involved in a car crash, so I immediately got into my car and I drove there. When I got there, I saw how bad that car crash was. There were 5 cars involved, but the most affected was my parents' car. It was completely compacted and I could see how they were able to take my parents out of the car, I was happy until I saw their faces. It was the most obnoxious thing ever, due to the shattered glass, my father had all his face full of wounds and my mother couldn't even open her eyes. They were suffering for 3 days, but finally, they couldn't handle more the pain and on the 18th of July, they both died. That day changed everything in my life; it changed my point of view on everything. I couldn't go out to take a walk, because every time I saw a child with his parents, I would shatter. I became isolated, I didn't see my friends ever, I didn't get out of my house and I couldn't stop crying, until one day I decided that I had suffered enough and one afternoon in September, I decided to take my life. I went to a bridge and I was going to jump, until someone, just when I was about to jump, grabbed me from behind and stopped me from trying to take my own life. She gave me the most comforting advice I was ever told. I made up my mind and I decided to see the world from a different point of view and tried to make my parents happy by doing what they would have wanted me to do.

Mr. Harris looked at me and frowned as if he had noticed my indifferent and careless attitude. He had, indeed. Then he peered at me more intently than anyone had ever before, and carefully said: "You believe you should not be here at all, I figure. You excel at school, meet your duties as a young student, and apparently have great friends. Those are good reasons to believe that you are emotionally healthy, I must admit, Henry. But I am afraid you have a serious obsession, and the first step to eliminating it is your coming to the realization." Obsession. Jesus, how many times have I heard that word in the last month? I was about to explain to him how mistaken he was, but I hesitated a little too long and he started again: "You know, when I am working with a patient I avoid talking about my personal life, but this time you will have to excuse me. I was once your age, however hard that might be to imagine for you, but I once was. And at that time we were lucky that popularity was not measurable the same way a distance or any other magnitude is. The popular people were the ones to own a car and have the most friends, but there was nothing more to it. Nowadays, though, it seems that this quality can be quantified by numbers with different units of measurement, such as the number of followers or the number of likes per post. Or at least that's what people think, as something with such complexity and so subjective as people's likings, cannot under any circumstances be measured with the rigorous accuracy of numbers." There we are again. What does this man know about social media and its functioning, I wonder? I was outraged that my family thought I was being obsessive with my Instagram account, focusing "unhealthily" on the perfect photos to post to attract more friends, to be liked, to be more integrated into society. But this was too much, the fact that they actually had me go to the psychologist. As if I were insane.

"Now tell me, Henry", he continued, "are likes really meaningful? Have you ever taken your time to think how many of the likes you have given were real ones? Have you ever stopped to think that the photos you post may not depict your reality, but rather create a fake identity? Don't you think if you showed your actual personality to society you would have fewer followers because that would be considered not ideal or perfect? Pressing the like button is sometimes a mechanical movement that people tend to make unconsciously to reaffirm that something is socially accepted. And you seem to have taken this idea very seriously, understanding that likes would guarantee your success towards being popular and accepted in society. Who doesn't want to be popular among the students, right? But the thing is, being so obsessive is a double-edged sword; you might make new friends more easily and be socially accepted, though I am not so sure about that, but you are more likely to become a puppet, just doing whatever society "likes" and wants you to do." I quietened a bit, trying to work out how to respond to such a long dose of information, but just when I was about to reply, something which I will never begin to understand occurred. A rock that went flying out of nowhere collided with the glass window and broke it into a million pieces, making an ear-splitting sound. "What the h..." Mr. Harris stood up and promptly approached what used to be the window, just to realize incredulously that there was not even a single soul on the street. I took the rock from the floor and looked closely at it. It was some kind of volcanic rock. I tucked it into my pocket.

I am meeting today", I found myself saying. I kept walking down the street barely noticing that it had started to rain. The day was turning out gloomy and foggy. And then I noticed something which made me stop my walk briskly. Over a thousand likes in just three minutes?! Nonplussed, I realized that however boring her posts looked, she seemed to have a great number of followers and likes. Even more, than I did. There's no way this freak can have this number of followers. I mean, is there anyone on this planet who cares about Riemann sums? The fact that she had more likes than I did just with her completely uninteresting posts maddened me. However, I found myself tapping the like button as if it was some kind of social obligation. I should like whatever people like. Never in my life had I given such a meaningless like, I thought and briefly wondered if somebody had ever given me a like of this sort. Then, little by little, a stream of jealousy entered my body, and I felt a sudden impulse to punch her in the face the moment I saw her. My left hand tightened around the volcanic rock I had stored in my pocket. She was making my blood boil, just out of pure envy. 4 18:45 pm. Henry enters Charlotte's home. "Good evening", Charlotte said. "Hi", I said sharply. Her apartment looked huge and was as spotless and tidy as the psychologist's room. She led me to her room, where she had two speakers playing background classical music. I think it was Beethoven.

Charlotte offered me a seat, and we started talking for a couple of minutes about the project. At least she talked, as I was not in the mood and just nodded at whatever she said. The environment seemed tense and uncomfortable; neither of us actually wanted to be there. It was somewhen during her long speech that she brought up the topic which would drive me crazy. "By the way, I had a look at your Instagram account. I must admit you have really nice photos, but you don't have that many followers, though". "I also took a look at your profile", I said with a slightly irritated tone of voice which I think she noticed. Her pedantic way of talking maddened me. "And I think your posts are a bit monotonous, don't you do anything but study?" "I miss the part where that's your problem". I noticed in her words the same irritated tone of voice which I had reproduced just a moment ago. It seemed that she didn't like me either, and the atmosphere was growing tenser and tenser. "It was hard for me to believe the number of followers you have, I thought you didn't have that many friends... You are not a cheater, are you?" "A cheater?", she was almost shouting now. "You know what, I think the fact that I have more followers than you do is killing you. You are full of jealousy and have a serious obsession with something as stupid as numbers a...' I don't know if it was the fact that she was shouting at me or the fact that I had heard the word "obsession" for the nth time that made me do what I was about to do. On an impulse of madness, I tightened my hand around the volcanic rock I had in my pocket, took it out and threw it with all my strength aiming directly at Charlotte's face. Fortunately for me, she was somehow able to dodge it, and the rock went flying out of the open

She's me. I love myself, and even if I just started doing so, nothing and no one will ever change that. No one will ever have the power to take that from me. I'm my own true like and I am okay with that. By Marta Camacho

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ENGLISH DEPARTMENT IES GALILEO GALILEI

-God…what a specimen I’ve just found here, you have got to be the only guy that hooks up with a girl and starts rambling about cars! After that speech, I realized that it may have looked as though I’d consumed something more than alcohol that night and any normal girl would have probably told me to get lost and go on to seek attention from a more willing guy, with no car talking involved, but to my surprise, she leaned closer and let out a small giggle. I couldn’t help but ﬂush, whether it was from the physical contact or embarrassment, it was impossible to tell. -I swear you looked like you were inches close to pushing me into one of those cars, at least the ﬁnishing blow would have come from that sports car, ain’t that a fancy way to die! I said, trying to look a bit more conﬁdent than what I’m usually accustomed to. -You wish! Although you may be onto something there… I mean, I’d just never really taken the time to think about it, do we ever have the time to think about these things anyway? The worst part is that we most likely do, but I always ﬁnd a way to ﬁll that time with activities that, compared to this, are unfulﬁlling. Damn… does anything we do really matter? -Easy there, you really went from zero to a hundred quickly, I don’t really have many answers either… I just like to think about my place in the universe from time to time, who am I, what am I doing here… that sort of stuﬀ. I haven’t really come up with an answer yet and perhaps I never will, but I still like it regardless, it makes me feel alive in a way.

-So you enjoy doing things that are pointless? The answer was rough, but she was beautifully right in a way she hadn’t contemplated. -And don’t things that are “pointless” have more meaning than any other activity done for the very sake of fuelling the engine of endless pursuit of perfection that our society runs on? Daydreaming, looking at the stars, giving away a hug or an “I love you” or even staring at the highway and having this conversation at the same time, that’s what makes this worthwhile! At the end of the day, the things in life that end up inﬂuencing our destiny decisively often spring from the most trivial of aﬀairs. -And does this sudden spurt of wisdom spring from destiny or my presence? -The liquor also helps… I ﬁnally managed to squeeze a laugh out of her, although she stayed quiet for some time afterwards, probably contemplating the view while processing what I’d just said to her. -I just wish I could get rid of my phone sometimes, that is the only thing that doesn’t really click with what you’ve just said, social media is pointless as well if you think about it, yet it is one of the most frustrating things there are, nothing is tangible there, everyone and everything becomes a number, the line between what is real and what’s not is downright invisible and the worst part is that nobody seems to notice nor care. Why would they

A True Like For years we have lived daily with something we call "social networks", which allow us to learn new things, and discover even hobbies. Such is the influence they have on us that they can even allow us to find love and make new friends. In this way of communication, millions of people share their daily lives, the things they do, what kind of hobbies they have, what they eat, where they buy their clothes... As you know, there is a small and innocent red button in the shape of a heart that allows us to point out if we like what people share. Well, that tiny button can be the mental and psychological destruction of many people. My name is Chloe and that adorable red heart ruined my life and my way of seeing things. It all started the day I decided to open an account on the well-known Instagram app. At first, I downloaded it just because everyone who had it installed on their mobile device kept talking about the good times they had at seeing what people from all countries in the world made in their daily lives. Obviously, my intention was never to become famous, I just wanted to understand what my friends were talking about. I remember the moment I uploaded my first post, it was a picture of a landscape from a trip I had gone on with my parents to a small island in the Caribbean. My account was private, so only people I knew were able to see the things I uploaded to my account. My small group of "followers" pressed that damn red button and commented beautiful things in the comment box, and that inexplicably made me feel so good that, suddenly, my whole being had the need for more people, even strangers, to say nice things to me. Then, without even thinking about it, I changed the status of my account to public and started uploading more trips and places I went to.

We are proud to present the winning entries for "Iria's Smile" II Literary Competition. The talent displayed by our students is once again beyond words. English Department 2021-22

difficult it must have been for you, as I can't imagine myself without you this last year. If your father was still here, I know that this isn't what he would have wanted. From now on, I want to help you, and I want to show you how much your father fought because he fought for you, he fought to see you every day, to hear you every day, to love you every day. It was all for you. Never feel guilty about anything that you have done because your father has always loved you, and so have I. Although sometimes it may not seem like it, I love you. And I'm not your father, and I've already accepted it, he's not coming back, but what I want now is for you to come back. I want you to return to be the singing, smiling happy and funny girl that you have always been, for your father." I froze. Tears kept falling from my eyes until I burst. My mother came and that's when I told her. I told her everything, Everything I had suffered this year and I had shut up. We hugged each other in the dark room, except for the light from my cell phone, which showed the red heart in the post. By Carolina Blanco 2S

She's never experienced, love. Not the one she listens to, reads about or the one she watches in movies. She's a hopeless romantic who loves the idea of being in love, even if she hasn't experienced it, she loves romance books and the rain. She enjoys long night rides, where she can relax and listen to songs that talk about that kind of love she can't describe. She takes pictures of everything to capture the moment and the memory. She has the kindest heart and is always nice to everyone, and people sometimes take that for granted, sometimes even as a weakness. She doesn’t like that, but she doesn’t really care about what people think anymore. She's free even if she feels pests at times. She doesn't usually share how she feels because she doesn't want others to treat her like a wounded animal. She doesn’t want to seem weak, even if sometimes she just can't take it anymore. But that's okay because she still hopes that someday she'll be alright. Everything will be fine. She'll find that one person that she'll love until the day she dies, no matter when that is, and she'll finally be happy. She'll finally get to live the life she wants and have, the love story that she's always wanted. But while that moment arrives, she's just going to live life as best as she can. To be as happy as she can and to enjoy every little thing in her life. She's been so sad, so overwhelmed, so tired for a really long time and she's sick of it. She's decided to start living and to stop faking. And to let love come instead of looking for it. To let everything happen as it has to, to feel what she wants and to be free. And until the moment when she's happy arrives, until she finds love, she's going to stick to what she has. to her one and only love so far. She's going to be true to herself.&nbsp;

HIGHWAY There we stood, contemplating the endless ﬂow of vehicles that the highway oﬀered us, how had we gotten there? I can’t tell, nor did it matter. I was mesmerized by the stream of ﬂashing lights in front of me, completely numbed by this spectacle that I thought of mine for a second, when she snapped me back to reality. -I wouldn’t mind spending a lifetime here with you, don’t get me wrong, but you could at least tell me your name in the meantime, she jokingly said. I laughed out of embarrassment, it was true, we’d just met half an hour ago and had only interchanged a couple of words; depth lacking sentences likely adulterated by alcohol that made the idea of sticking around with each other that much more appealing. -Agh, sorry, I was just thinking, you know? -Thinking about what? I could tell from the tone that the answer I gave out wasn’t the one she was expecting, but hell, I wasn’t going to get all romantic on a girl I had just met, so I kept going. -The cars in front of us, all of the people inside of them, try to get a grasp on all of their stories, their issues, their joy, their dreams and fears… and how they will live unaware that for a second or two I thought about them, I cared. Would that be enough for some of them to weather the storm of their lives and move on instead of giving up?

A chill ran down my spine. I was getting close to the building where I lived. The rain had not ceased yet, and I could barely see anything because of the fog. A couple of minutes later, when I took the keys out of my pocket to open the front door, I was pleased to see my neighbour, who was the same age as me, standing beside the lift. She was wearing her usual blue Nike backpack and a black North Face coat. In one hand she was holding a bag of gluten-free bread. On the other, she wore a ring the shape of a heart. The moment she looked me in the eyes, she knew. Somehow she knew I had not had a good day, and I was not feeling alright. So, she hugged me tight, and I hugged her back. That's the thing I always liked the most. THE END. By Manuel Alcalá 1B

THE LIKE I opened my Instagram account. I knew I should be studying, but I was also going to fail, so why should I study then? "Monica has published a new photo". I didn't even look at it and I gave it a "like". Well, after all, she is my friend, I'm supposed to. I sighed and I turned around to see my father's photograph. If he was here... Nothing has been the same since he left, and I've had to act like I don't care, I have to pretend to be the tough one and it doesn't affect me, but... how am I not going to care? He was my father. And cancer affects. Whether you like it or not, it is a long illness, and although you always have some hope when you least expect it, it takes it away from you. I looked at my phone again, and my mom just posted something. I decided to take a look, she didn't post things very often. And then I saw it. It had been a year since he had died. It was a picture of him... with me. Wait a minute, with me? But no one knew. How was it possible? I didn't care about him. I had to be an example. I had to be my family’s pillar. Without me, they would collapse. I read the description of the photo.&nbsp; “It’s been a year since the death of one of the most important people in my life. A husband, a friend, a teacher, but above all, a father. A father who loved his children dearly, a father who would have done anything for them. And he was a wonderful father, but he left. Today I apologize, daughter, because I have focused so much on your father this last year that I didn't realize that the rest of you were still alive, and you needed me, and I am very sorry that you had to be the one to take the role of calming us all down. But you didn't have anyone. I can't imagine how

So, since that day I set myself the goal of being happy again. I couldn't contact the woman that saved my life, so every day I was trying to find her number, so I could thank her, but I couldn't. The first night that I decided to go out with my friends again, it became one of the best nights ever, because I found myself again in the middle of that mess and I saw myself one step closer to what I wanted to achieve. I was admitted into the college my parents had dreamed and I got a master's in medicine, so I could save lives. I opened an Instagram account where I told my story to people. I wouldn't stop talking with people that didn't want to stay in this world until they finally realise that they are important, as the woman that saved me did. One day, I got the opportunity to travel the world telling my story with an amazing woman that has been through very difficult situations, we could save 24 lives in the year that we were travelling the world. After 3 years, I was finally able to post a photo of my parents of the day before the accident happened and the most magical thing happened, Katy Ferric, liked my photo, and guess what, she was the woman that saved my life. I was able to talk to her and thank her for everything she did for me. We met in a coffee shop and that day I was finally able to be elated again. That like made everything in my life complete again. Now she is for me like my grandmother. By Laura Correas 3S

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