Missing | Teen Ink

Missing

February 14, 2014
By FeelingRandom GOLD, Muscat, Other
FeelingRandom GOLD, Muscat, Other
13 articles 1 photo 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"Life is like a camera. Just focus on what’s important, capture the good times, develop from the negatives, and if things don’t turn out – take another shot."- Unknown


As I lie on my bed, I think, what did I do to get here? In this big room with white walls, black furniture and a big, tall bookshelf that is only containing a fraction of my books.

As I move and put my feet onto the cold marble floor, I shiver. My air conditioner was on high just the way I like it. I drag my feet towards the bookshelf that holds the only gate of escape from reality. I run my hands on the cold, hard, worn out spines and remember each story and memory behind each book. I scan the well-known titles and hesitate before taking one out of its resting place. No. Let the book sleep.

My hand moves back to the place where it always goes, to my pockets. My eyes start to follow an annoying buzz that belongs to a fly. The confused fly charges to the window only to bounce off of it, feeling lost and desperate to get out. It does not give up though; it continuously tries to leave this foreign place.

I know how it feels. To wind up in some dark place with no escape. To feel your own breathing become short and quick mixed with helplessness. To feel like you are an outsider who does not belong. The lucky fly gets to have his escape. I open the window gently. I swear, the fly buzzed in my direction and stared at me. He kept on buzzing and stayed in the room.

I left the window open for ten minutes, allowing the fresh, lingering air to clash with my artificial flower smell. The fly would still not leave. My legs started to collapse like a tower of unstable building blocks and I sat down on my soft, welcoming bed. Right when I sat down, the dam inside of me finally burst. It all started from one tiny unexplainable teardrop. Why am I crying? Why won’t the stupid fly just leave?

Those were the only two things circling in my head like falcons looking for their prey. As more tears started to pour out, these thoughts became louder. Why am I crying this much? I can’t believe I’m breaking down just because of a fly. One stupid fly that won’t leave after its expedition for an exit!

The tears kept on rolling down my hot, red face.



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