There was a time when I lived in a world surrounded by a grey cloud that followed me everywhere I went. I was always haunted by an invisible timer that weighed down my shoulders. It would taunt me. Hanging up on the ceiling like a chandelier. It ticked and my eyes watered as the sounds of the ticking were amplified by my fears. In reality the ticking emulated the sounds of pennies dropping into pavement but in my mind it erupted like thunder. It rose with the sun one morning and refused to set. I tried looking at the clock to find peace but realized that all it ever did was reincarnate. It was the middle of the night and I could not sleep. All I could do was stare at the ceiling as helicopters and airplanes went by. I gripped my covers tightly
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On my way home, I kept wondering somehow if it was all my fault. I know it’s ridiculous and selfish to think that but I kept wondering if it happened because I wasn’t praying hard enough for her. And then I started to get angry at god. I wondered why God would take away someone so loved and leave someone like me behind. I thought that it was unfair that someone like me would still be around while all of her friends and family’s hearts were broken. I understand now that it was pretty selfish of me to think that way but at the time nothing made sense. I kept wishing there was something I could do to fix the situation so everyone would be happy again. I prayed that she would wake up and that it was all a mistake. Even though I was grieving like everyone else I tried my best to keep my feelings to myself because I felt like I had no right to be upset since I didn’t know her as well as other people did. There was a memorial for her at a synagogue near our school (I’m not sure if this is worth mentioning but the majority of my school was Jewish). There was also this tradition that her family did where they sat and talked about their fondest memories of her. I didn’t attend either because I was afraid of my emotions getting in the way of other people’s
On my way home, I kept wondering somehow if it was all my fault. I know it’s ridiculous and selfish to think that but I kept wondering if it happened because I wasn’t praying hard enough for her. And then I started to get angry at god. I wondered why God would take away someone so loved and leave someone like me behind. I thought that it was unfair that someone like me would still be around while all of her friends and family’s hearts were broken. I understand now that it was pretty selfish of me to think that way but at the time nothing made sense. I kept wishing there was something I could do to fix the situation so everyone would be happy again. I prayed that she would wake up and that it was all a mistake. Even though I was grieving like everyone else I tried my best to keep my feelings to myself because I felt like I had no right to be upset since I didn’t know her as well as other people did. There was a memorial for her at a synagogue near our school (I’m not sure if this is worth mentioning but the majority of my school was Jewish). There was also this tradition that her family did where they sat and talked about their fondest memories of her. I didn’t attend either because I was afraid of my emotions getting in the way of other people’s