20s

1. Fragments of a Withering Rose

1997

Time to time, I sense this feeling within as though I am withering away, much like a delicate rose. But unlike a rose, I am submerged in the boundless ocean, devoid of the ability to swim, yet I am not engulfed by its depths. Sometimes, it feels as though I am floating, I drift, much like my scattered thoughts, as countless things lay buried within the recesses of my mind. I cannot escape them, nor can I take action to alleviate this torment. They haunt me relentlessly, just like a mean ghost.

Life was once a realm of ease and assurance in my eyes. I believed that I held my destiny firmly within my grasp, with a clear direction leading me forward. I thought I possessed the power to rectify everything, to mend every aspect of my existence. Too bad, little did I comprehend the chaotic state that consumed me—a beautiful mess, much similar to a wilting rose.

"What are you doing? You look disheveled." she remarks, her words slicing through the silence. I lift my gaze and find my sister seated beside me on the bench, a lit cigarette nestled between her fingers.

"Have you been crying again?" she queries, drawing a long drag from her cigarette. I sigh heavily, my tears dampening the fabric of my shirt sleeves as I attempt to wipe them away.

"You continually subject yourself to this torment," she continues, her tone laced with a mix of concern and exasperation. "You overthink and then lament about the hardships of life. T, you cannot possibly have everything figured out. No one does."

Her words hold weight, and I meet her gaze, though her smile remains unyielding. "You are merely twenty-three, yet you bear the burden of someone twice your age. Such is the life you lead, my dearest little sister."

The sensation of tears welling up behind my eyes grows overwhelming, threatening to spill forth. She is not mistaken, and like she would always tell me, I am consumed by overthinking, consumed by the incessant need for perfection. If circumstances do not align with my expectations, contentment eludes me.

"Cease this pretense of understanding the workings of my mind. You know nothing, Ivory." I retort, rising to my feet.

"Perhaps you are correct, and yet, perhaps I do understand you, T." she scoffs.

"You do not know me. You never will," I proclaim, my voice echoing into the air.

In response, she discards her cigarette, crushing it beneath her heel. Then, with a disarming smile, she stands and enfolds me in her embrace.

"You are all I have, and I am all you have. Witnessing your distress is unbearable. You must release yourself from these fears that ensnare you. Only then will you be capable of achieving your full potential." she imparts, her voice brimming with affection.

"I love you, my dear Treasure."

As the morning sunlight streams into the room, I groggily make my way to the bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. The girl staring back at me looks worn out, her eyes bloodshot and filled with a sense of emptiness. There is a darkness emanating from her that I couldn't quite grasp. I struggle to recognize the person I have become, uncertain of the path that led me here. I am utterly lost.

I hurriedly put on a cozy cardigan and sweatpants, slipping into a pair of sneakers. I grab my trusty mp3 player and headphones before venturing out for a jog through the streets. As the melodies flood my ears and the wind gently brushes against my body, I seek solace, hoping to find a sense of peace within myself.

Within the bustling market of the town, I bear witness to individuals immersed in their respective pursuits. Some frantically attend to their businesses, while others hurry to catch the train commuting them to their city jobs. There are those engaged in buying and selling, while others silently occupy street corners, their outstretched hands beseeching for alms. Amidst the flurry, a few individuals harbor ill intentions, seeking to pilfer belongings from unsuspecting victims.

I navigate my way toward the butcher's shop, greeted by the sight of the butcher grinning at my arrival. "Treasure, you are early today," he exclaims.

I scoff, stepping into his stall. "I am always early."

"Believe me, I have no reason to doubt you. I observe you running frequently. Do you carry a weighty burden upon your mind, young one?" he inquires, his smile fading slightly.

"I am not a child, stop addressing me like one. Now cut me some meat, or I shall seek it elsewhere," I retort.

"You persistently maintain such a rudimentary disposition. Very well, I shall prepare your portion of meat, so you may savor it alongside your lovely sister," he obliges, his eyes gleaming with mirth.

I roll my eyes, hearing his chuckle resonate within the confines of the stall. "How is Ivory? It has been quite some time since I last laid eyes upon her," he poses, a hint of shyness coloring his words.

A slight smile tugs at the corners of my lips, though I quickly mask it. "As if you would utter a word to her when you do encounter her," I tease.

"Am I truly that transparent?" he inquires, his eyes widening.

"Allow me to assess the situation. Every individual within this market is aware of your fondness for my sister. I suppose your feelings are not as conspicuous as you perceive them to be," I jest, as he hands me a bag of meat. Expressing my gratitude under my breath, I mutter a quick "thank you."

"I must indeed be quite obvious, then. Does Ivory possess knowledge of my sentiments?" he inquires, averting his gaze.

I smirk, tendering payment for the meat. "You already know the answer to that question, Brandon. Have a pleasant day."

I turn to depart, but his hand extends, capturing mine. "You have frequently expressed a desire to revisit the city," he begins, his words filled with anticipation.

Arching an eyebrow, I ponder the trajectory of our conversation. "And where might this conversation be leading, I wonder?"

"There is a concert taking place in the city tonight, featuring Ivory's favorite band. I happen to possess three tickets. Would you and your sister care to accompany me?" he proposes.

The longing to return to the city has lingered within me for quite some time. Our departure from the metropolis transpired when I was but a child, rendering my memories hazy. Brandon has succeeded in catching my attention this time. For a brief moment, silence ensues as I contemplate whether or not to accept his invitation. Should I venture forth? Or should I abstain?

"We shall not journey to the city, T," my sister asserts firmly, her words echoing with a familiar tone.

"Come now, I know you harbor reservations about Brandon," I interject.

She points a finger at me, nodding in agreement before returning her focus to her meal.

"Nonetheless, the yearning to experience the city remains an unfulfilled desire within me. You are aware of this fact, as I have often expressed it. Moreover, your favorite band is performing," I state, elongating the final words.

She gazes at me, a sigh escaping her lips as she places her unfinished plate upon the table.

"We departed from that place for a reason, T. Our safety lies within the confines of this haven. Do not test its boundaries," she pleads.

Rolling my eyes, I meet her gaze, only to be met with an arched eyebrow. "We shall not be alone, so what is it that you fear? I promise to remain at your side throughout the duration of the excursion."

She stares vacantly at the floor, seemingly deep in contemplation. I find myself wondering why we, as sisters, departed from the city during our formative years. What incited her fear? Most perplexing of all, why did our parents choose not to accompany us? We possess no photographs to serve as reminders, leaving us with no recollection of what they look like. Who are they? Who are we? And above all else, who am I?

"We shall journey to the city, but under one condition," my sister finally interjects, breaking the weighty silence.