Through Glass

September 27, 2008
By Stacey Rashford, Portland, OR

Live while the world dies and watch death from a safe distance. This quote applies to me in many ways but at the same time it is my exact opposite. As children we all accept the opinions and beliefs of our family and other people we care about, without really questioning them. But part of growing up and becoming individuals is about forming our own minds.
The sun was still up but I had already been put to bed. I had a hard time believing him when he told me this was the same time that I went to bed every night. But beings I could not read time yet, I had to believe what he told me. I lay in my bed unable to sleep. It was the like this every night. I would stare at my empty white wall, shut my eyes, make up stories to tell myself, let myself think of nothing at all; but it never made any difference. It seemed to me inevitable that I be awake.
But tonight was different. Tonight I whispered silently to myself, over and over again. “He is leaving me.” And yet I still couldn’t accept it. I wanted to just sit back and ignore it, maybe then it would go away. But a part of me understood that the world did not work this way.
He had gotten me through everything so far. It had been hard enough for me to adjust when he began school and I no longer got to spend every day with him; he had always helped me get through those days. But now I would be on my own, left to save myself. I felt so alone knowing I would never see him again. I tossed and turned in an attempt to shake him from my mind, but nothing worked. All I escaped were my covers.
Finally I forced myself out of bed, staggered over to my window and knelt beside it. With one hand supporting my head and the other hanging at my side I stared down the street at the row of neighborhood houses. I saw a couple fighting through their window, an old woman sitting alone on her deck and a sign on a lamp post made by a little girl asking if anyone had seen her cat. My eyes followed down the road until everything had sunk out of sight. I was looking for a God, but couldn’t see one. I struggled to distance myself from these thoughts. My family had never taught me about any type of religion or God, and I knew my dad was against it. So being who I am I just wanted to stay there, starring out my window and letting life pass me by while I watch the others. But I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t stop thinking.

“I don’t see a God”, I whispered to myself. I’ve never believed in One. I don’t understand how One could exist. And if One did exist, then who created him? Could he be listening to me right now? Can he read my mind? Does he know what I am thinking? Could he maybe be mad at me for not believing in him?

He had always had the answers; he always knew how to help, could this be why? Could he have been right about Him? I tried to recall what he had told me about Him, but it was hard, I hadn’t really paid attention. I had known with absolute certainty that he was wrong, so there was no reason to listen.
He said he had learned about Him at school. That was all I could recall. Then suddenly I realized what I had done, I had accepted Him; made Him real. Frustrated I turned away from window and flung myself back into bed. I lay facing away from my window, starring at the blank wall. I would not allow myself think, as long as my mind could not form words and sentences, this could end now. Somehow though, my mind continued on. I could feel it happening. Unconsciously I picked myself up out of bed and was suddenly kneeling in front of the window again. My feet were together and my hands were crossed in front of me. The sun was setting.
I stared up the street at a row of neighborhood houses. I saw two children biking home from the park, a family eating dinner together and a woman watering her rose bush. It was completely dark now. I didn’t understand what had happened. I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to see Him. But it was too late, I couldn’t forget and I couldn’t take it back. He was in the sky, in the grass, in everything I saw. Only minutes early I had been thinking to myself how impossible and ridiculous this all was. I felt like an animal, looking through glass, and finally realizing the existence of its keeper.

The author's comments:
I wrote this for an english class. I wrote Through Glass for a report anbout myself but I think it could fit into a fiction section. I am 16, have my GED and am seeking a masters degree in art theorpy. I have tried to write novel in the past but go tired of the story half way through and start another, which is why I am hoping to get a few of my short stories published for now.

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