The Willow

Thisbee lay flat on her back, on her hardwood floors. She stared blankly up at her ceiling, only blinking when absolutely necessary. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was wasting her life away. So many people around her and in front of her were striving and achieving their dreams, while she sat idly by, and just watched. She didn’t even know what her dreams were. She exhaled slowly, still in a stupor from her confusion. She wondered if she was too focused on trivial high school things, that wouldn’t matter later in life. I mean, how many things could a girl of her young age regret?
Seeing all those videos, all the amazing talent around her made her so envious and rendered her helpless to the world. What could such an amazing planet do with a useless little girl like her? She curled up in the fetal position, as if she had been hit, when the reality of that thought hit her. Nothing hurt more than knowing she was useless, and not good enough. She ran a hand down her face as the crippling feeling of utter hopelessness and despair consumed her, and the fearful thought of her impending future. Everything was happening so quickly. People all around her were already applying for college, and she hadn’t even the slightest idea of who she wanted to be. Being all alone in the world scared her, failure scared her.
She ran her fingertips along the floor, following the grain of the hardwood floor. She gently shut her eyes contemplating what she was going to do with her life. The dreams she always wanted to follow were never going to be possible, for she wasn’t good enough for them. It was as if the world loved to continually point out her flaws, over and over again, as if she didn’t already see them. And every time she got back on her feet, it would beat her back down, until she was left gasping for air on her floor. She wasn’t good enough to be anything in the world. Her future was doomed to a dead end job in an office, where she would eventually die a boring death, and no one would care enough to remember her.
She uncurled slowly, and returned to her original position, looking at her ceiling once again. The only sound that could be heard throughout her room was that of her even breath. She blinked a couple times, but remained perfectly still, wasting more time. She felt an unnoticed yearning in her chest, one she couldn’t quite place. Then, a thought came to her, and she realized what it was; a yearning for her tree.
As soon as she realized what it was, that want to go to it grew so strong, that it turned into a need. Despite the burning ache for her willow, Thisbee couldn’t seen to shake the depressed stupor she adopted, and get up to go to the tree. The thought of her not even being strong enough for her tree, the only good thing in this world to her, felt like ice cold tendrils wrapping around her heart and squeezing.

She then licked her lips, and her cheek twitched. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she tried to sniff them away. So many before her had put their lives on the line for and dedicated themselves to amazing causes and dreams, and here she was, lying on her floor, crying like a spoilt brat. She bit her lip as the fear of the future began creeping up on her again. It wove and dove around her until she was tangled and trapped in its dangerous web.
She placed her hands at her sides and pushed herself into a sitting position, scooting over to lean against the wall. She wondered how much more of this she could handle. Suddenly Thisbee froze as a new thought slammed into her. What exactly was she trying to keep a handle on? Her grades? Lack of friends? Home life? Her abilities? The pretense she put up? Or was she just tired of living her life?
“I cant be tired of living, I don’t want to die.”
She wasn’t tired of being alive, just living her life. At school, in front of people, she put up a mask, and hid herself behind it, never to show her true colors. She couldn’t keep doing that, because a mask only fools people on the outside. Pretending to be someone she’s not was beginning to take a toll on the real her, and she was rendered powerless by her fear to change it. Her insecurities forced her to believe that there was nothing worthwhile about the real her to show anyone. She quickly shook her head, and stood up at last. Not even bothering to put on a jacket, she slid some sneakers on and jetted out the door, mumbling a quick notice of her departure to her parents. Once outside, she slowed her pace to a leisurely stroll as she made her way to the park. Her eyes quickly found the tree if their own accord, and her body automatically sped up as she got closer to her willow.
Once she arrived at her tree, she gently parted its leafy barrier, and stepped inside, releasing the branches slowly behind her. She breathed in deeply, as if the air here was different and she needed it to live. Here, time ceased to exist, and her worries and shame seemed to drift away. She rubbed her neck in an attempt to ease her jumbled feelings. The wind then blew threw the tree, the cold nipping at her ears, as if to tell her everything would be alright. She let her eyes slide shut. She sat next to the trunk of the tree, and ran her hand along its rough surface. The bark seemed to almost glitter under her touch. Thisbee rested her forehead against the tree as all her worries were carried away by the wind. The warmth inside her and her tree radiated, protecting her from the cold. Thisbee let out one more slow breath and thought,
“I’m not perfect, but I keep trying.”