Never Going Back

October 31, 2011
By Anonymous

I look around as I think about what to write and I see a crow sitting at the top of a tree across the street. In my favorite poem, one black bird represents sadness.
I remember when I was in 6th grade. My class and I were in a play that we had created together. It was called Fractured Fairytales and was a mix of The Wizard of Oz, Snow White, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty. My cousin, Abhi, was the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz and I was Maryweather, the blue fairy godmother from Sleeping Beauty. Our whole class had worked very hard to write the script and it turned out really funny. I had memorized all forty of my lines and my acting was fairly good for a shy eleven-year-old. I was extremely proud of myself.
My grandma, my uncle and my aunt were all going to drive five hours to see my cousin and I perform. I was really excited and a little bit nervous, but at the last minute my school changed the date of the play and none of them could come.
I was disappointed but still secretly hoped they would sneak in right as the curtain went up. Throughout the whole play I held out hope that they would show up. The play turned out amazing and everyone laughed at the jokes. The plays at my school have always been recorded by at least one parent but though the play before ours was recorded, ours wasn’t. I was so upset because we had worked so hard and now no one else would be able to see how wonderful we had been. I felt like the world was out to get me.
After the play was over we drove home; by the time we pulled up to the house I could barely speak through my tears. My mom tried to comfort me and tell me she understood, but it didn’t help much because she didn’t understand.
We went inside and I called my cats, Angel and Midnight, but Midnight didn’t come. When we had left earlier to go get ready for the play my mom had asked me if she thought we should let the cats in.
“I think they’ll be fine, we won’t be out too late,” I had responded.
It turned out that our sweet little tuxedo boy wasn’t fine though. We found a little scrap of paper taped to our door that said a black and white cat had been hit by a car. I don’t know how we didn’t see it when we first walked through the door, maybe it was because it was dark out. I still don’t know. My mom went to the neighbor’s house and came back with a little brown box. She was crying and told us we wouldn’t want to look inside.
“Are you sure it’s him?” was all I asked before running to the bathroom when she nodded her head. I locked myself in for hours and rocked back and forth. I plugged my ears and hummed and I cried until my teeth chattered.

I never thought that I could feel worse than I did that day, but then there came a day when a girl walked up and kissed a boy.
He looked at me as she kissed him and I think I may have seen an apology in his eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination or maybe the surprise and pain had showed on my face before I had a chance to compose it. He had never told me that we were anything other than friends. He had never even kissed me, so why did I feel like he should be mine? I didn’t know he was with someone, he had never said anything. Until that moment I hadn’t even let myself realize that I more than liked him. Until that moment I didn’t consciously know that I loved him.
He had come into my life and reminded me what I was missing by isolating myself from the rest of the world. When I met him I was like a robot, going through life without any thoughts or feelings. My depression had worked its way deep into my soul. All I was focused on was getting through each day so I could escape in a book or a dream. I hadn’t been looking for anyone, but he found me and pulled me out of the hole I’d dug for myself. I know that sounds silly, but it’s true. Just the chance that I might see him made me want to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t met him. He showed me that there were people left in the world who could understand me and make life worth living. To say he broke my heart is such a poor way of describing it. He didn't even mean to, but he managed to tear me to pieces like nothing else ever had.
The funny thing is he was the one who helped me move on as well. It’s hard to describe how he changed my life, but it’s like he gave me the courage to live. It was because he showed me that I could love someone like I loved him and be happy again that I didn’t completely fall apart. Even though he broke my heart, he is still the best thing that could have happened to me. He made me realize I have to look forward to the future because you never know when you’re going to meet someone who will completely change your entire world. He showed me that there are endless things in life that can make me happy. He inspired me to see a world full of hope and dreams. He made me remember that the world wasn’t just pain and sorrow, that there is always something out there to look forward to. So I look forward to finding someone who I will love just as much, but who will love me back. Now I see what the world can offer me and what I can offer the world. I look forward to having a long exciting life and never letting my depression haunt me like it did for so long.
Now I sit here and watch the crow and a butterfly flutters down to sit in front of me. It sits and fans its wings for a few minutes, and as it takes off to the sky I turn back to watch the crow. I see my ride pull around the corner, but just as I'm thinking that I want to stay to watch the crow, it spreads its wings and takes off over my head to disappear into the distance.

The author's comments:
We were writing memoirs in class and I decided to write about how my best friend inspired me to love my life and make the best of what I had.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.


MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!