I was able to finish it hope yall like it:
I used to go here with my mom. Wildflowers would grow along with the clover patches. The air was always crisp after a spring rain. The grass, damp from morning dew, radiated a soft green. It used to be hard to find an open bench in the afternoon. Kites would fly in the light breeze with a child holding the end while the trees swayed overhead. I had quite a few memories of this park.
I opened the car door to see the ruins it had become. If there were clovers and wildflowers, the weeds and cans had covered them. A plastic bag hit my ankle, stopped for a moment, and flew away. What used to be bright green grass was mud. Trash cans were overflowed. I had come here to clear my head, but the stench of beer gave me a headache. There wasn’t laughter or squeals from children chasing their worries away. What had become of the place I once loved?
Maybe the park was trashed, but I knew the view was the same. It couldn’t have changed. The sun was too far away to be ruined by trash and weeds. That was my philosophy about life. The anxiety and sadness couldn’t touch me if I got far enough away. My “philosophy” is why I had to drive here. It worked until I had to come back to reality. Sadly, escapism is only temporary.
Instead of my problems going away, they were ringing in my ears. Then, there was that feeling. Oh, that horrible feeling. No amount of running took it away. No person met could fulfill my desire. It was always there in the back of my mind. The feeling that no one understands or knows me is worse than loneliness. It is like eating and still being hungry. It is a hole in my heart that nothing fits into. Loneliness went away over time; this did not. There was a heavy weight on my eyelids, but not because of being tired. It only took one nonhappy thought for me to break down in tears.
I sat on a grimy bench by a withered flower. I twirled the flower in my hand as I watched the sun slowly drift away from my sight as the darkness swallowed up the rest of the sky. My mind has been stuck in night mode. The Sun used to come up, but now she is too tired to shine. The only light would be the stars. All the stars would say are things like, “your friends are happier without you hanging out with them.” In the pitch black, it was the best I would get to positivity. I wiped my nonexistent tears away and stared into the dark sky.
Thoughts rushed through my head, “I have no right to feel this way. Nothing traumatic has happened to me. Why am I like this? Does anyone like me? There are so many days I have felt I couldn’t make it through. Let me be okay. No one knows what happens inside my tortuous mind of mine. The intrusive voices have gotten louder. I ask for help for someone to listen, but people brush it off. ‘You’re just stressed,’ they’d say.
“Who am I? I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. My ribs show through my shirt because I hated how I looked before. And what good did that do? I hate how I look now, and I smile through everything though it hurts like a stick wedged in my gut. What beast has taken this body and mind and torn it apart? I turned into a sensitive sniveling snob. I am the person I hated as a child. Did I not promise myself I wouldn’t turn into this girl? Who am I to expect life to be handed to me on a silver platter?”
The tears dripped down, cold as they went. I couldn’t breathe; I just lay there. The cold wind upon my back reminded me that I was back in my world. A dark and unpredictable world. One that there was no escape from the cruel emotions that brought me pain. It was a black void in my heart that nothing could fill, so I just felt empty. The parasite devours my mind but never feels content. I have fought and tried to fill the void but now succumbed to the painful numbness.
I looked down at my sweaty palm to see the wildflower. Its stem has floppy from the violent twirling I had subconsciously done. In a way, I am like this flower. I am trashed but still beautiful. My mind overgrew the beauty I once shined. When the sun rose, I would be nurtured. I was… happy. To fit society’s expectations of me, I was forced to adjust to who I am today. It is my job to fix me. I can’t blame anything or anyone but myself for how I am. I am not broken, not entirely. I felt a tiny sliver of aspiration; it was refreshing. The only thing that could fill the crater in my heart was me. No one else could. It might be a hard battle to face, but the struggle in my mind will get worse if I don’t.
I got up, and as I walked to my car, I picked up a couple cans. Once I got home, I put the tiny flower in a vase. I was determined to get better; that little flower was my inspiration. It might take weeks, months, or years; I just need to try. I have waited for the courage to finally fill my veins, but I might not be here if I keep waiting. Our drive for happiness is what makes us human. Whether we feel happy or not, deep down, we all want to be okay. We all deserve to be alright. These thoughts I have don’t mean I am broken. I am only preparing to meet someone who I have never met before. Myself.
