Gray Areas.

I used to think that everything revolved around the earth. Like the Roman Catholic Church, I falsely hoped that we were lustrous enough to have the entire galactic wonders float around us. In first grade, I was cured of my ignorance, but that didn’t stop my fascination with humans.

We breathe, we talk, and we communicate like no other species. Humans are diverse, we are multifaceted beacons of light, and when our light dims we die.

Death-- everything coming to close, the stereotypical white light associated with tunnel vision. I used to think the world would slow down gradually after I left. Stupid assumptions figured that if I left, then the story would be complete, that everything would be solved, peaceful, and content. But, on the last page of a book, the story doesn’t stop. At every beginning in life, we are simply starting a new end.

Gazing into the small rustic setting, I wondered if someone missed me. Green grassed hills rolled, creating curves in the Earth. Characteristically, the gray streaked clouds floated cautiously across the periwinkle dipped horizon. Danger loomed from their lack of purity, as they stalked the small town. Yet the sun still shined through the small cracks, like the light that would never dim. Kicking the rocks underneath my feet, no one would notice the unordinary disturbance.

In fact, after I witnessed them scurrying away, the pebbles zipped right back as if it had never happened. Shuffling more so on the street, I recalled all the times I spent back here. It was Holly, Holly Boulevard, I’d run up and down this pavement until I collapsed and screamed my lungs out. Smirking, I continued to pace myself for all the memories to come.

There were too many flashbacks for someone who had only lived 15 short years. Or what I had thought to be 15 years too long. Sun rays peeked from around the storm clouds to kiss my cheeks, but the warmth was dismissed. It was something that I missed. After passing, all of the little things I had over looked were stolen from me. Literally grabbed from my grasp as I jumped from the stool, the small privileges faded from my body like the pulse in my wrist.
Passing the stop sign on Holly Boulevard, I stared at the white Sharpie pen defacing the reflective surface. Kyle had hoisted my featherweight sack of bones up on his shoulders. Laughing, intoxicated, and young, I had scrawled my message. The graffiti yelled to passersby, “Don’t stop believing.”

If only I were the kind to take my own advice.

Now, I am walking through the remains of a life I didn’t want, still inside a body I despise, and currently wondering how people are unaffected by what should be six feet under. This was not the heaven I yearned for; however, it is the hell I deserve.

Did I mention the grueling thoughts followed me? That’s my favorite part.

A strong clap of thunder announced its presence in the east. Slouching up against the stop sign, I exhaled. The grass around me was green, swaying with the gales of burly wind. To my left was a large field, with weeds up to my waist scalded to a crisp by the blistering summer sun. Swiftly, the breeze made the reeds dance, revealing undertones of the burnt orange. It smelled how it does before it rains, pure.

Inhaling once more, I awaited the shower. My blue curls copied the motions of the reeds, brushing into my face. Blinking from the contact, I didn’t even move a muscle to correct the nuisance. Raindrops scattered around me. The rain ricocheted off of the leaves in the canopies surrounding the road. Finally, the rain reached me, drenching my clothes, my hair, my body shivered despite it already being cold. Funny how in my heaven, only the bad things happen and everything good is gone.

If it is my heaven, where are the golden roads? What about all those babies with harps and shit? Budget cuts nowadays, sheesh. Smirking, I got up and began to journey back down Holly Boulevard.

Kyle and I would meet on the corner of Holly. He’d have his car radio jacked up to full volume and I’d have my knee highs slouching down to my shins. We weren’t the perfect couple, but we were the best of friends. There was a mutual understanding between us two, and I couldn’t deny there wasn’t chemistry. The love that dare not speak its name utterly fit us to a t.

Gulping at the thought of the past lies, I had to pace these memories. There’s a part of me that relishes in the temporary happiness experiencing the ‘good times’ again. Then there’s the monster in me that reminds me of the bigger picture that I rather ignore. Bigger pictures aren’t always the most vibrant.

Shuffling my feet on the wet asphalt, I tremble from the chill rain soaking the flimsy cotton hanging onto my emaciated frame. In no way was I ready to go face my consequences. Home wasn’t an option right now; I had already seen enough of the gruesome picture I had created there. It made me sick to my undead stomach to comprehend the mess I had mothered.

Kyle would have been disgusted that I had chosen that way out. Regina was probably bawling over my body at the moment, trying to helplessly revive my lifeless heart. Mom would more than likely be on the phone with Dad, talking in the monotone she adapts for serious situations. She’s so strong, if only I could resemble my mother.

But the rain will still pour if I’m there or not. Life will still go on. My death, it has amounted to another sad stain in their lives. The world isn’t slowing down for me, and now I am going to struggle to keep up with its undying pace. Nothing comes to a complete close in the gray, unknown, areas of life and death.