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I Thought I Lost You
I turned my key in the lock as the door slowly creaked open. I entered the old apartment, looking down at the stained wooden floors.
The flashbacks of the day raced through my mind as always. The pressure, the stress, and the fact that I have to return to it tomorrow.
I placed my things on the messy coffee table and slowly walked down the hall to my bedroom.
I passed the same things as always, things that I used to despise. Things that I now have to settle for. The walls were cracked and the paint was fading. It looked like the place was abandoned a decade ago, yet I live in this little thing I hesitantly call "home."
As I opened the door to my room, a boy sat on the bed.
"Hi," He said softly. "It's me. Well, you, actually."
"What?" I replied. "That's impossible. It can't be-"
"I know," He said, calmly sitting with his legs crossed on my messy bed and ball of old sheets and thin blankets. "I'm a little confused too."
"No," I said in disbelief. "If it's really you, then tell me everything. Things that nobody else would know."
"Well," He said, looking up at the ceiling and smiling. "We had a lot of things to do. You always told everyone you wanted to be a firefighter or an astronaut. Everyone thought it was cute, and did their best to support you. Looking around, though, I'm really not sure I have the right person."
I felt a sense of sadness and hopelessness that I had never felt before. To talk about my failure to my younger self. It hurt me in a place I didn't even know existed.
"No," I said solemnly. "You've got the right person. Sadly."
I could tell he was attempting to be polite, but the fading light in his eyes said it all. He flopped onto the bed and the springs made a little cry for help from all the energy.
"But, what about the games we played?" He asked me. "The dreams we had? It can't be over... can it?"
"I guess it's not, in a sense," I replied. "But it's just - you know - you haven't really seen the world yet. You don't know how heavy a dream can be."
He looked around the room as if he was as deep in thought as a little ten-year-old could be.
"Maybe this is a good thing," He said as he jumped off of the bed and walked to the doorway. He turned to look into my eyes. "I know it might be heavy, but can you do something for me?"
"Sure," I replied. "What can I do?"
"Work hard," He said. "And don't forget me."
"I won't forget you," I said. "And I'll work hard towards those dreams of yours. You're welcome to come back and watch my progress. I mean it."
"Alright, I will!" He said, feeling hopeful for me. "I'll see you soon then. Goodbye."
I heard his footsteps grow quieter until he was gone. A memory, a feeling, and a time that I was certain I could never get back.