Short Stories

My city and how I see it

A 6-year-old me, walking through the city, looking at all the tall buildings and the tall people walk past. Woosh what feels like two hours is two days. Then I start to travel in a car through the concrete jungle, I see as they slowly fade into woodlands as I head back home. Then a week or two passes and those tall buildings are back. I play in the projects of West Harlem, you can hear the sirens from the playset. Then the sun goes down. I head up in the elevator to the 12th floor, I go to the apartment I visit anytime he comes to see me. I walk in and sit in the room that was once his.

Of course, he's not in there, but I always hope he is. I look out the window of the apartment on the 12th floor and see nothing but a reminder of home, I see that he's somewhere in the jungle of concrete. I walk to the bed and lay down, I lay down on something he once rested on. The next morning I'm woken with the smell of coffee and freshly cooked mangu. And so my previous day repeats till he suddenly stopped. He stopped calling, he stopped coming to get me. So now all I see are mistakes, mistakes I made, and the one he made. And my mind unconsciously fills itself with things I think I did, things I thought were the reason he stopped. But as I grew, I realized if he wanted me he would've stayed, would've tried to fight. But he's just like the wind comes and goes, like the season and like time.

I don't blame myself, I blame him. He wanted to do other things. And I'm fine, he wanted a different life, that's okay. But now all I see in the city is a reminder that he was never good enough, that I am perfect and he isn't. But that's okay all of us aren't perfect, he must've known that. So I'll say that's the reason he left. And that's the reason the city to me is him, unperfect.

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A/N: This is an original story written by me this was for an English assignment and I hope you enjoyed it! and hope to give you your chance to be put in the book!