Here is another piece I wrote during my Writing class. It’s part of a two-part, and this is the first half. Enjoy!
I never thought it was possible this place could make me feel both safe and afraid. I know what it is that makes me feel safe, and I know what it is that makes me afraid. I never thought it would haunt me in my dreams.
When I walked through those glass doors, I thought I was alright. This was the place you could call home, after all. But it was so bright; too bright. It was like the sun, but it was artificial. Artificial light, something I really hate. So I couldn’t see. I had to squint my eyes. And it wasn’t just the light; the colors were frightening. They weren’t soft and gentle and cool, the way I like them. They were harsh, neon, hot, cruel to the eyes. Worst of all, everywhere I looked, I saw the things I couldn’t solve. Problems of the past glared back at me with taunting sterility. I’m left here. You didn’t fix me. I wasted your time. Here I am again.
All I heard were voices, voices, voices. Voices I both loved and hated. Above them all I heard my own, calling out, imploring something I forget. I heard me own, and the people around me (there were so many people) did not. They did not hear my voice.
The air smelled and tasted of old salt. I was nauseous because I could smell everything I was ashamed to not be strong enough to eat: greasy meat, sugar, strong beverages and coffee. I thought I liked the smell of coffee. But right then it reminded me, you don’t like coffee. I am cold. I’m always cold, and this time no one could give me their jacket. There was no touch. Even when I tried to reach out, I still seemed to be too far away.
And on and on, I begged to be seen, I begged to be heard. All the people I knew, all the people I loved, they were all around me. I was a void. Untouchable. Dangerous. Was I a ghost? Or did I float by like the wind?
“I’m here, sister.”
My sister. There she was. And she was looking at me.
Feel free to share your thoughts. I always love hearing them ^_^