(17, CA, USA) Anonymous - Cars

For years, I had moved through the hallways of my high school like a ghost, feeling invisible and disconnected. Depression had become my constant shadow, a relentless whisper that painted my world in endless shades of gray. In my hometown, Mom did her best, but Dad’s absence gnawed at me—a gap he left behind when he returned to Mexico. Then, on my sixteenth birthday, a dusty, old box arrived from Dad. Inside, I found car magazines, a model car kit, and a note: “Build this, mi hijo. Think of me." Initially skeptical, I began piecing the model together. Each component clicked into place, not just assembling a car but something within me too. I dove into online forums, absorbed articles about engines and designs, growing more passionate by the day. Our weekend calls changed dramatically. Gone were the awkward silences and strained exchanges; now we talked excitedly about horsepower and restoration tips. Dad reminisced about racing homemade carts down his village roads. I felt us reconnecting, bridging the distance and the silence that had stretched between us for so long. For the first time, I saw a future shimmering with potential. I wasn’t just assembling model cars; I was mending our relationship and rediscovering my own spark. Through our shared love for cars, the emptiness began to fill with hope, coloring my world vibrant once more.