It’s late, but sleep refuses to come. I had a nightmare last night, about the world bombing itself until it was nothing but black. Walking alone, the city was reduced to piles of dust, everything took on the appearance of an old photograph, faded and grey. I remember walking through the rubble, the air warm and damp, dust seemed to float in the air, mixing with the air and moisture forming what seemed like a never-ending grey curtain blocking out the horizon. I could feel the rubble and debris under the soles of my sneakers, and my dress clung to my thighs. There was a slight breeze felt like it was pushing me into the ground, and instead of being cooling it was hot, yet brought a chill down my spine.
The world seemed empty, and all I could hear was the wind whistling by my ears. No cars, no sound of construction, no noise of the people on the street going about their daily lives, none of New York’s everyday sounds. There were no people, no roads, no buildings, only rubble. Then a thought hit me. These rocks and debris that I was stepping on-they weren’t only chunks of buildings, they were plants, sidewalks, subway cars, people…
As that thought sunk in I suddenly felt stifled. The air I was breathing, the ground I was walking on, the heat radiating from the ground, the moisture in the air. Now it all made my skin crawl. I squirmed as if trying to shake off the feeling of nausea and repulsion. My knees buckled and I fell to the ground screaming in grief and realization.
I woke up in my cold bed; a thin layer of sweat covered my body, my sheets twisted and contorted around me. I could feel my heart racing.
Now I can’t sleep, and my mind wanders. I envy the freedom Annie has, she’s only six spending her days playing jump rope, and hopscotch. Blissfully unaware that everything could end at any moment. It’s sad to think she’ll have to grow up and realize that the world is a lot harsher then she could anticipate. What scares me even more is the idea that she won’t have the chance to grow up…Death has been on my mind lately, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not afraid to die, but more afraid that I’ll die without ever really getting to live.
I told this all to Mama yesterday. She listened quietly with a sad look on her face. She turned around back to the dishes, telling me not to think about it. But I can see she worries about it too. When we’re listening to the news programs I can see the lines in her face deepen. It reminds me of President Kennedy; he used to look so young and handsome, all the girls at school thought so. Now he looks tired and haggard, a shell of his former self. Last night we listened to his speech, and it was as always inspiring.
“My fellow citizens, let no one doubt that this is a difficult and dangerous effort on which we have set out. No one can foresee precisely what course it will take or what costs or casualties will be incurred. Many months of sacrifice and self-discipline lie ahead -- months in which both our patience and our will will be tested, months in which many threats and denunciations will keep us aware of our dangers. But the greatest danger of all would be to do nothing.” As long as he remains strong, I think the rest of America will too.
(So it's 3am right now so forgive me and my sleepy writing. This is a thing I had to do for my English class, and I'd like to get some feedback on, I had to write a diary entry from the point of view of a teenager, during the Cuban missile crisis. So basically I was very uninspired to write this, have no idea what to do with t, and it's being graded.
Also the title is not permanent, I know it fails, but I've always failed at titles. So please leave any little comment, every little bit helps and don't be afraid to tear it apart and be as harsh as you want! Also any kind of ideas about what to do with it, where to take it etc. would be awesome. )
Edit- Okay I reedited again, and I'm still not sure how I feel about this story, but lets see how this one goes over.
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