This story is one of the February Writing Challenge entries chosen to be a featured story.

.
The night is young, as the moon is full and disturbingly close. If I stare at it long enough, I can see faces trapped in the surface, mouths open, distorted in silent screams.

The wind whispers, as the leaves underneath me scream with every step I take. The air grows heavier; I can feel the weight on my skin, producing a sheen of sweat, the hairs on my arms standing with electricity. Yet, a shiver slowly makes its way down my spine, icy fingers feeling each bump of my vertebrae.

I’ve found myself out here again, but this time feels different; the night is darker, and the wind is colder, and this void hidden deep inside me isn’t hidden that well anymore. It’s crawling itself up from the pits of my mind while its darkness is making it harder to see.

Everyone told me I was going to be alright because I was surround by people who cared; you can nurse my wounds and kiss all my scars, but nothing you do will help ease the chaos that lies within. They told me I shouldn’t be able to feel this sad because I had everything that I needed to be happy, but my emotions are like quicksand: the more you struggle that faster you sink.

And right now I’m sinking. This void is becoming bigger, and it’s becoming harder to breathe. So, as I walk through this forest with my tear-stained cheeks, holding a notepad that has my final written goodbye, I think about the absurdity of life.

I think about what we do on a daily basis and how those things really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. I think about how we shave our legs, pluck our eyebrows and lather lotions and creams on to our body, and how we starve ourselves just so we can fit into the perfect pair of jeans, just so we all look a way that we think society will like. If you break down the things we do, the routines we make, you’ll see the superfluous behind it all.

You’ll start to see how we’re only a speck of dust in space, a screaming speck of dust that thinks it matters.

When really, it doesn’t.

I can hear the crash of the waves now, I can smell the overpowering smell of salt, and for a moment I thought it was going to be okay. Then I remembered why I was here, and I felt the black hole pull me even deeper inside.

I’m closer now, because as I stand at the end of the cliff I can see the waves crash and turn and crash again at the rocks below me.

So, I undo my jacket and place it on the ground with my note.

I look into the waves, and smile. I’ll be gone, and I’ll be free.

I guess some people aren’t meant to be happy.

I look to the sky, the dull grey consuming my eyesight. I spread my arms open like wings, and step forward.

But when my body was close to hitting the water, I knew I didn’t want to end.

Because this void, the black empty hole, wasn’t so dark and empty anymore. There was a star blooming.

If only I knew you didn’t need to be a planet like everyone else.

If only I knew that the star was better.

Because the star was the sun, and the sun had the ability to create or destroy life.

But I guess it decided to destroy me.

 

 

Zoe Jones-Drennen
16
Australia