The World I Left...

The World I Will Never Miss...

I chucked another paper at the trash and screamed in frustration. Following the paper, a pen, a pencil, and a sketchbook. I went to pick up the sketchbook almost immediately after it thud against the ground, and realize that I missed the trash can. Instead, I knocked it over.

I could see the hole in the drywall from where I kicked it. I had purposely put the trash can in front of the hole in order to hide it. I still need to fix that. I still need to fix everything. I picked up the trash can and placed it back where it was. I saw it over-filling with crumpled paper. I walked back to sit on my bed and let a tear slide down my cheek. I immediately wiped it away so that I didn't show weakness. But, there's no one who can see me here. Everyone here is gone. Everyone except me. I sighed and threw my head back and painfully hit the wall.

I immediately sit back up and look down at my sketchbook. I have a splitting headache now, but I can still see the one good drawing at the front of my sketchbook. A picture I drew of my family. I can still feel the heat of the fire. I glance around at my room. The walls are crumbling and caving in. The light blue paint is now brown and black with ash, with holes and spots of mold everywhere.

I rip out the drawing in my sketchbook and I hold it tight. I close the sketchbook and so can see my terrible handwriting on the cover. "Chara" It spells out my name in scrawls and hearts... too many hearts. I lay the sketchbook on my desk and stand up. "Breathe" I whisper to myself. I rubbed my head and walked out side, clutching my picture in my other hand. I look at my house. It's in shambles, just like my life.

I look at the garden. I remember working on it with my mother. She's the only one I truly loved. It used to have a beautiful fountain and a nice cobblestone pathway. It's all just rubble now. I take a stone from the pathway and chuck it at the door and smile as my house begins to collapse on itself. It was unstable anyway. At least I wasn't in it when it happened.

I look back down at the garden and I see a single golden flower. I fold up my picture and slip it into my pocket. I kneel down in front of the flower and I dig it up and I hold it. It's identical to every other flower in the garden in the center of my village. I used to play there when I was younger. But this flower is special. Because I planted it with my mom. I hold it up to my face and I cry for the last time. I stand up and breath a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to leave my past life behind and I'm not going to miss anything here." I tell myself. And with that, I glance up at my home once more, and I walk away from my broken home, and my broken life- happier than I've ever been in my entire life. Even though the only things I have now are my picture, my determination to find a new home, and a single golden flower.