1/25/13 – 1st period, English 3 Honors


Such jealousy from a subtle glance. The blaze a slight smile can ignite. We may not actively seek attention, yet each slow glance between them drives an icy dagger of resentment into my heart. But the result is not blood; it is inferiority.

With each moment they share together, each laugh he draws from her soft lips, the dagger is twisted in my chest. When it’s over, I am hollowed, self-consciousness and anguish streaming down the blade, dripping from it like sap.

Neither of them are any the wiser.

I try to bandage myself with assumed indifference, yet each moment I sit in silent agony, stewing in the juice of my soul, each moment the assault on my heart goes unnoticed, the more my progress is destroyed.

I thought there was a UN sanction against attacking medics in war.

My bandages are left if the dust, contaminated with dissatisfaction. I rip the knife from my chest. It was barbed. I lunge at him with it, but it disappears as soon as it touches his skin.

He doesn’t notice me.

Neither does she.

No one does.

I’m not here.

I am nowhere.

No.

I am somewhere. I just don’t know where. I can’t see. Nothing is familiar to me. I feel something beneath my fingers. I grope furiously, trying to determine what it is. I am broadsided by a tidal wave of sensation. The lights come on. I am blinded. I look around frantically. “What IS this!?” I shout from the roof of a sky scraper. There is no one else there. My voice rings throughout the deserted city of Chicago.

A bird rustles. It was blue.

Or, at least I thought it was. I’ve always been color blind.

Wait…no I haven’t.

The bird is blue.

I hear a familiar voice far off in the distance. I run towards it, looking for something I recognize, something to comfort me, something other than these yellow brick adobes. Some of the windows are boarded up.

I hear a parade off in the distance.

It’s probably not for me.

“5 more minutes.” I am in English class. We are reading Hemingway.

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