This short story (more like a paragraph, you would agree) is written in a narrative, reflective format, where the life of a teenager is described; its highs and lows; emphasis on simple things in life is stressed.
It’s fun sometimes to be a teenager. You get on this roller coaster, you get off, then you play some more. It’s fun to feel angst, knowing that better times will come. It’s fun to feel independent even for a little while – I know you do, especially when you walk in the nature or swing on the swings, with wind singing to your ears a song of nothing. No thought is left in you, but a big puffy happy thought that comes with speed, drunk with the scent of air. You swing down and up, déjà vu’s of your pastimes come about, reminding you of the happiness you have once felt when you saw birches, striped and shedding, in your hometown in the summer. In time, as trees will once again assemble their leafy clothing, you will feel belonged and committed to this freedom that summer always brings; hope. Sometimes you pick up the leftover snow, shredding it into water droplets that drain down your juicy veins, and perhaps, cheeks. Your cheeks feel cool, and very, very fresh. You look around, catch another wave of wind that blows your hair out of the eyes, and slowly start on the journey – sometimes an asphalt road, other times a rock-ridden pathway, taken by no one but yourself. You smile for the unexpected as if you are that one person who has nothing to lose. Spring is here, and not even a honk in the middle of the road can stop your mind from babbling to save its life for the grayness it once had shared with winter. Yes, fool, I know I am one, but at least I enjoy my foolishness and once gained childhood when you are hurrying in your car and missing out on all of the fun, you think. Sometimes you meet nicer people – they smile at you when you smile at them, that unforgettable and innocent, oh so innocent smile you have. These people cannot resist smiling back, and these are good people. They enjoy their life. Sometimes you find that these good people are alone, and it’s saddening to see them fade away from your warm smile and into the oblivion no one shares. There are too many beautiful people in the world who are alone, you think. Misery, in turn, likes company. Other times these people are with their children – and you are happy for them because they have someone to love, and people to love them back. Family is a cherished thing, it is sacred, and it trespasses all of your understanding. You know that, in time, everything will come into play. You wait, swinging up and down on the swings, wait, wait for something to happen, for someone to come, while memories are thought to be forgotten, and you start off with a new, clean page of your life. Another life, another swings, another happiness to be found and something else lost. Life, you think, is a funny thing – it likes duality, it likes falls, climbs and everything in-between. You have to feel that every little thing, and when you do so, you have now found yourself. That little tiny creature inside your chest, warm and lighthearted, is who you are, and it is determined by what you do. I’ll leave you in solitude to feel, I’ll let you be alone to find who you are – a scandal-girl, a wind-girl, a hurt-girl, a bird-girl, a fire-girl, an air-girl – hello, you are finally here. I can see this in your eyes, you have arrived here.
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