Note: This post was authored by one of my students, Aylin Aydogdu. Aylin is enrolled in two of my writing classes here at Daugavpils University in Latvia. She is from Kayseri, Turkey, and her English, she is proud to say, is self-taught. Aylin, 21, is an international student participating in Europe’s Erasmus Program, and is a full-time student at Erzincan Binali Yildirim University in Turkey.

The ground beneath my feet had always been steady, like the promises of my parents to keep me safe. But that day, it betrayed us. The earth, which I thought was my friend, roared and shook so fiercely that I couldn’t stand. My sister screamed, and I tried to hold her hand, but we were yanked apart as everything fell apart around us. The last thing I remember was her small fingers slipping from mine as the ceiling came crushing down.

I woke up under a sky I didn’t recognize, gray with dust and shadows. I was surrounded by rubble, cold and sharp, pressing against my skin. I called for my sister, my mom, my dad…No one answered. Hours passed – or was it days? I don’t know. Time felt broken, like everything else.

When they finally found me, I was too tired to cry. The rescuers pulled me out, their hands rough, but warm. They told me I was lucky. I didn’t feel lucky. As they carried me away, I saw a man sitting in the rubble, holding a small, lifeless hand sticking out from beneath the concrete. His tears had frozen on his face from the cold, and he didn’t move. They told me later he had waited there for 3-days, refusing to let go of his daughter’s hand. I didn’t know her name, but I felt like I had lost her too.

They took me to a shelter where the air smelled like wet clothes and sadness. Everyone had the same hollow look, their faces pale and drawn. A woman sat rocking back and forth, clutching a shoe that belonged to her son. A boy about my age stared blankly at the floor, his arm in a sling. He didn’t speak, not even when I tried to talk to him. Maybe he had run out of words.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have words to describe what I felt. Unadulterated anger, sadness, fear – they all tangled up inside me, fighting to take over. I’d close my eyes and see my sister’s hand reaching for me. I’d hear my mom calling my name, my dad’s voice telling us to run. And, I’d be up shaking, the sound of collapsing buildings still echoing in my ears.

They tell me I have to move on, that life goes on. But how can life go on when everything that made it worth living is gone? I lost my family, my home, my school, my friends. Even the toys I used to play with, the ones that made me feel safe, are buried under the rubble. And every time I think about it, I feel like I’m buried there too.