My world is the whole world

Lena's book

It was a day, a day like any other in my life. The wind was blowing in my hair as I was walking down the road I walked on thousand of times. My shoes know this path by heart. The shabby heels tapping on the floor with every step my legs make. I was walking automatically like the wind was guaiding me down this path. I closed my eyes, I let my legs lead me the way. The only sound were the rustling leaves on the trees. It looked like a nice sunny day. Perfect for a family picnic. Where mum made peanut butter and jam sandwhiches, where dad was playing with the kids on the playground. Where perfect families were enjoying this perfect sunny day on a perfect family picnic. But I, I never get to do that. My sunny perfect picnic is walking down this road. My family is the family I carry in my bag. My books. My perfect sunny day is the one I see when I close my eyes. Because in my world there's no family, there's no picnic, there's no mother to make the sandwhiches, there's no dad to play with children. There are no children. Suddenly my legs stop. I am unable to move. The sun hidden behind the dirty wall that's starring at me. The light it's reflecting is cold and gray. The wind is gone. The leaves are the papers I threw in the air. Suddenly I am in my world. There's silence. There are no rustling leaves, no tree, no sun, no shabby heels, no path. I am sitting barefoot on the cold ground of my room. The wall is blankly starring at me like I am nothing more than a dust on the floor. The floor is cold, my room is empty. My bed is neatly made with the beige sheet and a light gray pillow. My dress is white, it has some dirt on it. My hair is made in a pony tail. My hands are as cold as the floor I'm walking on. I go to the window. The path is there laughing at me. The trees are looking down on me. The sun is smirking at me. The kids don't notice me. I'm a ghost to them. Nobody. I grab the only thing I own. The book, read so many times the pages are getting ripped. It's full of notes of a clumsy written font. The cover is brown, the title is written in golden letters. I hug the book to my aching chest. "If you ever get lost look deep inside your heart. You'll see a little light. That light is me." I keep repeating mother's words to myself as I hug the book tighter like my life depends on that book. My mother gave me the book. It was one of her favourites. She read to me before going to bed. The clumsy written notes are all hers. I hear a loud shut of the door. Dad. It's the man I used to call 'dad'. But this man is not him. This man is a stranger. My dad smelled like strawberry shampoo and light Marlboro cigarettes, but he smells like cheap whiskey and woman parfume. My dad wore a white shirt and light brown pants. This man wears unwashed jeans and a dark green t-shirt. My dad had dark brown hair styled in a quiff, this man has greasy and messy hair. This man is a stranger to me. The sound of footsteps keeps getting louder. He's coming closer. I leave the book on my table. Emotionless. Tired. Blankly starring back at my wall I stay by my bed as the stranger enters my room. He's quiet for a moment. He looks me up and down. He growls something about inconsiderate people and too high whiskey prices. I block out the sound. I know he's shouting. I close my eyes. I shut of my feelings. I know I fall on the bed. I know what happens after. I just refuse to be there when it happens. I think of my sunny day, my trees, my path, my shabby heels, my leaves. They're my escape even if they were never mine. I open my eyes after the second shut of the door. I see the dirty white dress laying on the floor. I don't pick it up. I see the messy bed under me. I don't make it. I see the world but I don't feel the world. I lay there. I am not there. I go back on my path. I walk and walk as the rain drops start to fall, there are no clouds but my face is full of rain drops. They made a labyrinth on my face. My eyes are red. The biggest rain drop makes her way down my neck. She stops on my bare shoulder. I start running down the path. I run and run and run. The path doesn't stop. I keep running. I feel free. The rain stopped. I keep running. I came to an end. There's a wall. It was a one way street. It's a blind street. I look at the wall in front of me. It's starring at me. It looks like the wall in my room. It has the same blank stare. I feel someone's hand on my shoulder. I turn around but the street is empty. It was the wind. I open my eyes. The wall, the book, the dress, the unmade bed, they're still here. Nothing changed. I put my dress back on. I pick up my book and hold it to my chest. "My world is the whole world." I read the golden words on the cover. I feel a sharp pain in my stomach. I keep my eyes open. But the wall is gone, the bed is gone, there's no room. My dress is clean. My hair is clean. I see the path, I see the trees, I hear the leaves. Everything changed. I look at my book. Everything changed but my book is still the same. My eyes are open and all I see is the white light lightly rocking me to sleep.