What Have I Become? | Teen Ink

What Have I Become?

December 23, 2011
By liz2014 SILVER, Boston, Massachusetts
liz2014 SILVER, Boston, Massachusetts
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
“It is not work that kills men, it is worry. Work is healthy; you can hardly put more on a man than he can bear. But worry is rust upon the blade. It is not movement that destroys the machinery, but friction.”

-Henry Ward Beecher


As I walked along the barren dirt pathway, I stumbled upon what seemed to be a silver oak tree. It stuck out like a sore thumb, but only because of its colossal size. The leaves were the same color as the other trees, its bark was the same charcoal-gray, and the roots were embedded deep in the earth, but something was different. Not only did this tree seem to stretch on forever up towards the heavens, but it also had tendrils of dying vines holding it back, yearning for life.
The familiar feeling of being clung to by old memories flashed before me. The feeling when you pine for a release of the things that hold you back dominated my thoughts. You know, the bits and pieces that keep you a somber person. As if there is a weed of insipidness in the back of your field of thoughts, growing and feeding off of your mistakes and faults.
I tore my glance away from the beast, and attempted to move forward. However, something halted me. I looked down at my feet, only to see that they were slowly sprouting into the flaky slate-like color that covered the bark of the tree. My toenails and my fingernails started to slowly develop into the green leaflets that covered the tree way up above. The grey color was slowly crawling up my body and molting my skin into bark.

You would’ve imagined that I would’ve started to panic, but this was when I realized that I was no better than the tree, I absolutely the same. I stood out, but I was doing nothing with my uniqueness. I was special, but the things holding me back prevented me from doing anything with my talents. I was just this big structure in the way of other things. I was a waste of space.

As I accepted this, my transformation began its final steps, and I was beginning to feel my feet being lodged in the earth. A life of unrest was waiting for me. I took a cavernous breath and inhaled what would surely be my last intake of oxygen. I felt my chest rise and fall underneath the rugged texture of the bark, which had now succumbed up to my neck.

I closed my eyes and waited for the moment when their blue beauty was to be sealed out from the world, but instead, right when the bark was reaching the bridge of my nose, a blinding light and quivering broke the trance.

There I was, staring at the forest before me, with a lurking sense of deja vu. I turned around, and began walking back towards civilization.



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