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A Whisper Against the Wind This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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     The wind threads through my fingers and wraps around my body, leaving a layer of frost on my skin. It’s numbing, but yet that feeling comforts me like no other. This coldness, this lack of feeling it causes, just makes the world seem so peaceful.

 

     I’m in love with this numbness, this physical counterpart of apathy.


     Sometimes, for a few seconds, I close my eyes and listen to the sound dead leaves crackling under my feet. When I open my eyes, there’s a baby blue sky filled with soft cottony clouds. It feels like an end of a story; a perfect clichéd tale; the beginning of a new arc. That’s when I tell myself that I am content with life and take another step towards home. The wind brushes against me again and the façade is blown away.

 

      Little hisses wisp around my head, they tell me the truths that I refused to admit. They remind me of those little blue pills, sealed in an orange container with a white cap. Numbers were engraved on the back of them, marking their artificial power. I looked at those pills every night; my fingers pressed against white cap before screwing the bottle open. And, every night, I would let it happen—I would let it take my place.


     The pills were dormant at first, or so I thought. Its effects were subtle; I didn’t notice them until I asked myself if it was me at an instance in time. There was no mirror to look at but those smiles on my face told me all that I needed to know. Those expressions filled with lies, with happiness that wasn’t my own. The cynical jokes and smoothly stringed words, which I had no feelings towards and said for reasons I never knew, all of which were never my own—they were the pills’.


     A breeze passes by; a shiver goes down my spine as I take another step forward. This time, it feels as though tears are falling under my skin and vulnerability has engulfed my heart. I tell myself that it’s fine but I look at hands as if they weren’t mine, observing its curves along with its indents. My gait increases and I reach home, my hand is wrapped around the metallic knob. I look over my shoulder to see that sky is now azure—cloudless and clear. My heart softens for a moment as my mind made its decision upon looking at the sky.


     Under my breath, I asked myself who I was.


     And in a whisper against the wind, I told myself, “I am”.




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