When you feel your bubble break, you feel a sense of trying to overcome this obstacle. When you feel your heart torn apart, you have the need to stitch it back together. When you feel the walls have been leveled and what’s left is the rubble, you in desperation cling to your last hope. I felt the reverberations shaking the foundation I had. Weeping as the foundation shook and shook, I felt at moment tranquil. Suddenly, after overcoming an obstacle barely, I felt my whole world losing it’s gravity. My walls crumbled and as per tradition took the flags of the vanquished and laid it at the feet of the conqueror, the Reaper. All it took was for me to notice someone wasn’t breathing, for my walls to be torn down, to have the heart break, and have
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Hearing my mom holler as someone on the phone called for me I rushed downstairs yanking the phone away from my mom. It was an old friend who recently was hospitalized. My naive sense of the world still lingered into middle school, and I assumed he was fine and I rushed our conversation. After a few moments, I handed the phone to my brother and went about my business. I dealt with issues occasionally, but I felt myself recovering from recent incidents. Only a month later, my mother told me my old friend was on the verge of death. He decided to succumb to a life of smoking in his own house instead of a hospital. Taking a day off of school, my family made a disheartening trip towards California. Those hours ate away at me, the feeling of dread crept on me. What kept me going was a friend during those arduous hours, my eyes locked onto the screen exchanging messages that spanned over a 5 hour conversation. As I looked back on these hours, I remember that friend was a crutch for me. That whole journey felt as though I was coming to my undoing. Yet, this human being talked philosophy and politics with me, distracting my mind or helping me directly confront my feelings. During that drive and all those texts, she sent me a picture of herself, and what I remembered was her face reminded me of a dead star. When the evening rays faded, we inched closer to my old friend’s abode. I saw myself unravel as I saw the house inch
Hearing my mom holler as someone on the phone called for me I rushed downstairs yanking the phone away from my mom. It was an old friend who recently was hospitalized. My naive sense of the world still lingered into middle school, and I assumed he was fine and I rushed our conversation. After a few moments, I handed the phone to my brother and went about my business. I dealt with issues occasionally, but I felt myself recovering from recent incidents. Only a month later, my mother told me my old friend was on the verge of death. He decided to succumb to a life of smoking in his own house instead of a hospital. Taking a day off of school, my family made a disheartening trip towards California. Those hours ate away at me, the feeling of dread crept on me. What kept me going was a friend during those arduous hours, my eyes locked onto the screen exchanging messages that spanned over a 5 hour conversation. As I looked back on these hours, I remember that friend was a crutch for me. That whole journey felt as though I was coming to my undoing. Yet, this human being talked philosophy and politics with me, distracting my mind or helping me directly confront my feelings. During that drive and all those texts, she sent me a picture of herself, and what I remembered was her face reminded me of a dead star. When the evening rays faded, we inched closer to my old friend’s abode. I saw myself unravel as I saw the house inch