Descriptive Essay - Original Writing
One minute I was at home, then the next I was sitting on the empty bench in the park, or maybe aimlessly wandering the city. I knew it was unhealthy, wandering the streets without having told my family or friends, but I could not stay at home as their hopeful and expecting eyes bore wounds that only seemed to grow larger and more prominent by the day. The pressure had me gasping for air, my chest was heaving and felt heavy.
Hair matted and sticking in clumps to my face, I continued down the street without getting even a second glance from the strangers walking by. With no set destination, I let my body lead my mind with faint hope that it would somehow lead me to my memories.
Flashes of dark, rustic buildings danced before my vision as I was once again pulled into the familiar scene of deserted warehouses. Looking down I saw red cuts littered across the pale skin as beads of blood slowly began to seep out.
I was determined to find my own memories through my own means. My friends and family always offered to tell me stories about things we had done together, major achievements and struggles that we had endured together. Every day they would come with new stories for me. However, in my mind that 's all they were, stories. Everyone moved on in life as I was stuck in place. They told me to “move on”, but how was I supposed to…