this is where you’ll find me

a memoir on finding solace within the earth’s sky.

During the past few years, I have become an emotional teenage mess. My mind has begun to feel like a melting pot of emotions, a tight circular bowl with my thoughts being the hundreds of marbles thrown in, circling around and around and around until they fall into a hole of oblivion. On the outside, this may not be obvious, but often times I am overwhelmed with the amount of  information bouncing around inside my head. That being said, I’ve had trouble finding a space where I can be at peace of mind—after all, I can’t exactly run from myself.

A few years ago on a late summer evening, I was at home when my mother and I got into an argument—about what, I don’t recall. Though I remember being so fed up with her, bursting with anger, I stormed out of the house without much thought. And because I left so suddenly, I had nothing on me—no keys, no phone, just myself… and my thoughts.

I lived on the second floor of my apartment building, so I was able to quickly run down a flight of stairs and out the door into the humid summer atmosphere. It was cooler than it’d be in the day, and the sun was making its way toward the horizon. Still cooling off my anger, I made large strides away from my home.

Across from where I stood resided this paved path along this huge field—a “hydro field” occupied by large towers and electrical lines, as well as some soccer nets where teams of young children go to play in the warmer months.

Toward the direction of the field was a roaring sky bursting with colours, with reds and oranges and even some purples and blues. The sun stood boldly against a patch of blood-red sky, not a single cloud in sight. It was beautiful, and just like that, I felt my boiling anger sucked away, my attention being alluded by the infinity of the vibrant colours. It was as though the sky had a voice, and it was calling me by my name.

Every step a bounce, the only thought I had was to chase that glimmering ball in the sky. I ran up the swiveling path toward the direction of the setting sun. It met the horizon toward the west, which led me down a hill right by a park reservoir; a dam of sorts acting as a barrier between some quaint lands and a mini “lake,” the dam also playing as a bridge. Large electrical towers stood further ahead in the water.

I settled along the bridge, hoisting myself up the metal railing and sat comfortably, where my eyes took in the colours of the sky. Far ahead of me, A tall office building stood out with a bright red sign, with other small buildings in the distance. The reservoir stood at the intersection of two streets, where cars drove swiftly with their flashing lights. I could see all the traffic, yet amazingly, I heard none of it at all. It was far enough away.

I watched silently as buses and trucks passed along the orange sky, so many lives going by me that I will never meet. People who go through just as much as I do, yet none of it I may ever know. Realizing all of this made me feel so tiny, so insignificant—but not in a bad way. It was as though my existence was merely a grain of sand, a sailing cloud observing from up above, watching the tiny people move by. Life goes on. The Earth’s lullabies cradled me in its warmth.

I stuck to my spot along the railing as the sun tucked away for the evening and light faded from the sky. The night was just as beautiful. Stars twinkled against the navy blue, the sun’s sister offering just as much as her. City lights lit the sky. Whooshes of airplanes up above filled the air. I sat, observing anything and everything.

As I got home late that evening, I greeted my mother with a warm smile. She seemed to have taken her alone time well, too, as neither of us brought up the argument we had a mere few hours earlier. I didn’t want to fight—not at that moment, anyway. I plopped in my bed, daydreaming about the feeling of infinity I have just experienced.

While I don’t go toward that reservoir frequently, when I need a place to calm down and collect my thoughts, I find myself walking towards that direction, night or day. And every so often, I look up at the gorgeous looking sky and hear it calling my name. And I can never resist the chase.

always/never: a dialogue script

Two students having a conversation while they await their graduation ceremony to begin.

✧・゚: *✧・゚:* :・゚✧*:・゚✧

OLIVIA: This is it. We’re really here. Finally.

BEN: You were looking forward to this?

OLIVIA: Of course.

BEN: It’s really not as interesting as you think. When my sister graduated in this very room three years ago, I can’t remember anything from the ceremony except falling asleep.

OLIVIA: Silly, I don’t care about any of this.

BEN: Then what in the—

OLIVIA: Once we walk across that stage and take that fake piece of paper, it’s official, we’re free. Do you realize how long we’ve been preparing for this day? Twelve years. Twelve years of school. Four years of high school. We were just itty bitty babies when we first started; we didn’t know anything about college or student loans or budget cuts.

BEN: Yeah, something that like that.

OLIVIA: Are you excited?

BEN: …I’m not sure.

OLIVIA: Oh come on, you had the whole school year to think about it.

BEN: That’s the thing. There’s a lot I regret about this year. Always telling myself I had enough time. “Ah, it’s fine, I’ll think about it later,” or “I can do that next week, when I have time.” I was constantly saying that and look where I am now. The end, we’re done. And I can’t do anything about it now.

OLIVIA: I’ve always wanted to join a club. The knitting club. Gosh, I love knitting. But I was always so busy, I’d always say I’d go someday. And I never did.

BEN: That’s sure unfortunate.

OLIVIA: There was also this amazing English teacher I had in tenth grade. She made class so fun, but she left the next year, and I never got to tell her how awesome she was. I never knew I could miss a class so much until it ended.

BEN: I get that.

OLIVIA: What do you regret, Ben?

BEN: …There was this person I saw in the halls a lot. I never talked to her, but she had a presence about her that drew in whoever she spoke to. I liked that time she decorated her friend’s locker when they weren’t looking. She seemed sweet, but I never have the guts to say anything.

OLIVIA: Aw, so you never got to talk to her?

BEN: Nah…not ‘till today.  

END

breathe

*✭˚・゚ a short story

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

They stayed silent as they strode through the hazy springsummer grass.

She gazed into the sky. Bright blue.

He stared ahead.

She held his hand in a warm embrace. His grasp was distant.

She knew today would be the last time she’d ever feel these sensations.

They waded through the grass.

Deep breaths.

I need to talk to you, she said.

He stopped and turned to look at her. Okay, he said.

Now.

He let go of her hand and brought himself to the ground. He laid on the dewy Earth, staring up. She joined him below. Separates.

You’ve been acting different, she began.

He was silent.

You’re always so distant. Disinterested. Up in the clouds, she nodded to the sky.

Nothing.

You were different when we first met. But you don’t seem to love me as much now.

Nothing is easy for me, he said. You know that.

If you really loved me, it wouldn’t be this hard.

It’s hard when you constantly need my attention. I’m with my friends and I always have to work around you.

It shouldn’t feel like work.

I shouldn’t have to treat you like a baby.

She kept her gaze at a certain piece of the shifting blue.

You don’t treat me like I’m anything. You’re too busy with them. You don’t talk to me or even acknowledge me.

My friends get me. We have the same sense of humour. You wouldn’t understand.

I don’t get what you’re saying.

Exactly, he breathed.

Quiet. She closed her eyes.

His breath hitched. He spoke with dewy eyes.

She jumped to his side, cradling him in her arms.

Bodies no longer separate.

I need time, he said.

She joined him in his tears.

I understand, she said.

For she knew she’d see him once again in her dreams.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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