Teen Ink

I live in a desert. Well, it used to be a desert. Now, it’s just malls, houses, apartments, restaurants, shops – only dusty windows are left as a sign of the desert. I wasn’t alive when it was turned into a bustling city. When I came here, it was a city rich with oil and dusty windows. When I leave, it will probably still be a city rich with dusty windows. No one really feels the loss of the desert. We go there on field trips, though students usually prefer amusement parks. Yes, there is still a desert beyond the fringes of the city, but it’s disappearing. And nobody really cares.

I dream of getting lost in a desert. I dream of seeing only sand dunes, hazed by dusty winds, blurred by watering eyes. In class, when the teacher is droning on and on about something (saving the planet was a recent ­topic, ironically), I see the walls around me collapsing, the dusty windows falling into the sand with a thump.

In my dream, the sun is everywhere; the only shade is beneath dancing sand dunes. Footprints disappear as soon as I sink them into the desert. I walk and walk, and when I am tired, I ride my camel.

I experience living through a sandstorm, with parched throat and dry tongue. Just stopping, shutting my eyes, ­feeling the sand whirl around me, my own insignificance echoes louder than the wind! And when the sandstorm settles down, I open my eyes to a different place. Everything has moved. Outlines have shifted into different elegant shapes. A path that was once clear is now altered.

I dream of not knowing where to go or what to do, and of not being able to cry because my tears have dried. I dream of sleeping under stars that haven’t been outshone by city lights, and looking at a moon and ­determining the date, and wondering what to do in the morning, with only the sun to guide me, praying that I may make it to a camp.

I dream of all of this. But will it happen? No. Will anyone save a desert when there is a dying rainforest? No. Nobody. Never. I shall remain lost in a city forever, and only dream and wish and imagine, and all those other cruel verbs that give hope and take away truth. The facts stare me straight in the face as I look out at the city through dusty windows.