Here’s a short piece that I wrote for my Introduction to World Literatures class one year ago! My friend Ashley said she liked it when I posted it on Tumblr and I had always wanted to find it back (since I did not remember anything about what I wrote). Yesterday I was clearing the notes on my phone and i found this!
The theme of the story is isolation. I did not edit it so here you can see how i used to write one year ago *really there’s no difference*. Feel free to commnet 😉
It’s funny how it is so crowded, yet I feel completely isolated. The light, the sound, the people, even the air feel wrong. One backpack. That’s all I have now. Looking at the ghosts swiping beside me, I realize that I’m the only who stops and stares. From time to time, some of them would pace down a little and give me a quick, cold glance. Is it my mind doing tricks? But I swear, for a split second, some of those were unwelcoming, even revolting snares. I blink and they disappear like the life in their empty eyes. I stand still, half leaning on the gray light pole, trying to mind my own business. My own business. That is hysterical to think about because I do not own anything now. Even the ghosts have more than I do. They have purposes and a place they belong. I do not. The strange sun hovers above, I tilt my head back just to glint my eyes towards the skyline. Under the eerie sky, that unfamiliar unevenness of the roofs above me remind me of something in the past. I cannot tell what it is in details yet I sense a flinch in my chest, as if something that once was there and went still, tries to beat again. Images of the ruined flash in my skull, haunting me with my own memory. An urge of closing my eyes rushes in my vein and I succumb to that unusual yearning. All at once, much, much too completely, the chaos and cries attack my senses again. I try as hard as I can to make my feet run and flee from this living hell. Sarcastically, I am trapped in quicksand and every movement I make drags me deeper. I yell and shout and scream even if it tears my throat apart. I cannot breathe, as if I have been living in void darkness all my life and suddenly, someone sets me on fire. I feel the flame burning in me and I hear the sound of my skin sizzling. Some strangers shove my left shoulder and snap me back. I do not know which is worse, now or back then.
Looking at the ghosts and then myself, we are different in every way possible. I have a big head full of black wiry hair with pale brown skin. The ghosts, they may not be literally transparent but they are certainly paler than I am and have straight black pearly hair. They speak an alien language that is just noise to me. I would not even know if they are talking behind my back, discussing how to toss me back to that ruined place I once called home. Do I want to go back, assuming that someday, I will be allowed to? I do miss my home, family, friends, all the things I held close to my heart once and lost in one chaotic night. Bombs and guns take them away.
The uneasiness of knowing I belong to nowhere empties me. Where should I go when I do not know where I can return? I drift away again, back to the walk and thoughts of the ghosts here, trying to pretend that I am one of them. A bird’s chirp summons my senses. They get to soar and fly back to their nest. I do not. I am alone in this crowd.