The Albatross This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

By , Marshalltown, IA
I’ve never been one for simple statements or short replies. I always answer when spoken to with such veracity and grandeur one would think I was narcissistic. This is untrue; I’m actually decently gracious and generous. However, when something sparks inside of me, it takes hold of me like nothing else. Whether it is a great debate over foreign policy or ordering a sandwich, I never sell myself short. I tend to push some buttons and stick my nose where it shouldn’t be stuck, but that’s just who I am. In fact, this one stubborn characteristic is exactly what won my battle with the albatross.


I met the albatross just a little over a year ago-but he wasn’t in the form of an albatross then. At the time, he seemed somewhat trustworthy and maybe even a little intriguing; aspects in a person that I found highly valuable. Although his sense of humor was unorthodox to most, it sparked my interest and soon I found myself falling for him. This was a feeling I had never encountered before, yet there was something I couldn’t place.



The inkling in the bottom of my stomach proved to be right shortly after, when this handsome, young man turned into an albatross before my eyes. The albatross hung to my neck for months after, haunting my sleep and ruining the fire that had once burned so brightly inside my being. Gradually, the albatross slowly began to dissipate and I could feel my true, stubborn self emerging from the cocoon it had been hidden in for so long.


I always try to keep things classy; to take the higher road. So in those long months that the albatross held tightly around my neck I never spat or jeered at it, even though that is secretly what I wanted to do. I wanted to hurt the albatross like he had hurt me, so it could understand the pain it had caused its one companion. I wanted to tell it that it was atrocious, dull and a waste of my time. I had hoped that the albatross would turn back into my prince, so I persistently tried talking to him about such an idea. When the albatross rejected my dignity and pride in the matter, I wanted to throw him off my shoulders and make him believe he was evil and deserved nothing good in this world.

After a short epiphany, I decided the albatross was not worth any more struggle or heartache. I placed my stubborn head back on my shoulders and burned the few photos I had of the albatross and I. No more would I be taunted by his looks or melancholy hellos, no more would I yearn to kiss his lips that had spoken so many words of love into my ears. No, I was through with the albatross and everything he represented. With the burnt up ashes of what now symbolized the foul coupling of us, I threw them along the edges of his sidewalk in the middle of the night, to drift through the wind and sit in his bushes. At that exact moment, I knew I had freed myself from the revolting albatross; I had regained my control and happiness.





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