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Grade
8

 

It was time. Time for me to depart, to go. The pain I have cause will never wear on those who have received it, for I have taken it all back. So as I forget those who have immortalized my triumphs and my failures, I will remember those who have long forgotten myself along with that sadness I had left them with.

 

It wasn't long before I snapped I lost it. I had lost myself inside my own mind, my own consciousness. The sleeping dog inside had awoken with With the one many had known destroyed, true persona, prevailed from the deep darkness of my reality. The true finally showed itself to not only others, but me. I realized life wasn't what I had known it to be, short and sour.

 

When you are young; full of life, potential, purpose, you are naive. Naive of the dangerous flavours of life, of future. I was young. I was unaware of my standings in the light of reality. My parents, I cared deeply for. I would toil in rage over their "misconceptions" of what the right thing was. They shut me out. From themselves, away from me. I, barely knowing what absence was then & now. Drowned out in my emotions and their social prejudice I left them. I shut them out, away from me.

 

Many times the snakes would tempt me to do wrong. All I wanted was to be a heard voice to those I listened to. Parents, teachers, friends. I knew everyone was enraged at me in a way I couldn't explain. They didn't like me for who I was, especially my parents. My father, caught in his own grief and dismay in a failing marriage, which I had no part in, could only find ailment to his illness from alcohol. And my mother, providing our crumbling family with unstable income in her unstable occupation of painting the beauty in living. Her vibrant creations filled my imagination and dreams with curiosity and wonder.

 

It was 4:00. I was in the emergency room, crying the tears of doubt that reflected the feeling of loss from liquid glass. I couldn't understand the feeling of grief. Many many opportunities I had overlooked to bond with him. Alcohol substituted with being with your child. If fault would be placed, it would be mine, guilt was present in my soul that night. Guilt that felt out for place but needed.

 

You never really feel pain, it's just an emotion, just like happiness, and sadness, and all of those superficial emotions that just cover up insecurities. Insecurities about what is socially acceptable to feel, as far as feelings go, in a social environment. Why did I look at her pale face. After I knew she was already having an out-of-body experience? Why my hand never let go? Why did I have to let go.

 

I was devastated. For what I know now, it's hard to believe she could've been. Then, she went as I would, by her own volition. They found her, strung from her neck, with no note. I was the left, now in the situation of a child but still young like before. Ever so young. You never really leave. You're always remembered somehow, whether you like it or not. If you're remembered positively is up to your impact on life. Just as your image of the departed is the image they've given to you.

Sprouts are weak, small, frail. Their roots are short, not deep enough to keep their stalks from bending over, but keep growing in their own prosperity to be better than the rest. I was a sprout. At stages of adolescence I was small, with a weak heart After the death of father. I was angry; angry at the world & at myself, why me? Why couldn't he live to see the fruit of his labor as a father? Spiraling into a depression, destroying what were once admired attributes of myself, I left the life behind I once had a new life a life of freedom.

 

I felt the world drift away from my sense of what the world was, and my place in it. I couldn't handle the gap. I wasn't ready for life and life wasn't ready for me; I thought I would be around longer, like so many others. Alas, like so many others, like mom, dad, I would depart early, what I thought was the only thing that would help me would be the only thing to end me.

 

I had reached the peak of the mountain of descent. The world had consumed me. I felt as if time was passing by as life had done to me. I closed my eyes for the last time, feeling the wind on my face as it descended into the abbadon that was my fate. Feeling the wind as I fell; it felt good. The morning air rushing past my ears like water down a stream. Seeing the light against my eyelids as they remained closed. I was light, weightless, just like the soul. Just like the soul.

State
MI
Zip Code
48105