It stared precariously at me, situated a quarter of a meter from my doorstep. Why or how it ended up there seemed incredibly unfathomable. This rock was disrupting my mood of solitude. I had to get rid of it. Every time I move it, it manages to make its way back to my patio. The rock seemed solemn in a sense, isolated and unwanted. Yet the stillness spoke to me.
Very much like my life, It had no had no value, no meaning. I hurriedly crept outside, held the rock desperately in the palm of my hand and asked it “What do you want from me? Why won’t leave me alone?” Have I lost my mind? There I was standing at my doorstep accompanied by the naked air that thumped me, protesting to a frozen rock. The situation seemed rather peculiar. I took it in with me after momentary silence, maybe one day it’ll speak to me. I placed it vigilantly at the edge of my coffee table and sat on my couch, struggling to figure out this momentous discovery.
As I continued to glare at the rock, my step-mother walked in.
“Why so morose?” she asked.
“Not sure you’d understand; you’d have to actually have a soul” I grinned.
“Try me”
“Forget it”
“Why do I even ask?” She grumbled.
She walked to the kitchen counter and dropped the laundry basket hastily into the sink. She stood there furiously. She came back and stood sturdily in front of me, staring at the rock.
“What is it doing on my coffee table?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t even look at her.
“Speak to me!” she demanded. “Please… I’m trying to help you” she pleaded, sorrowfully.
“You can help yourself to the door”
I glanced at her when she bowed in despair… she began weeping. I felt a bit terrible, but I didn’t have the nerve to apologize.
I wish my mother was with me. Ever since she passed away, I’ve been feeling confused and immensely depressed. I’m confused as to why god took her life instead of mine, and I’m depressed because I lost the person who meant the world to me. Such were my thoughts.
I woke up this morning to a pillow clenched in tears and a world that seemed… empty and dim. I haven’t seen my father ever since the funeral. He dumped me in this gritty house with this grief-stricken woman whom he is now engaged to. My father is nothing but an ATM machine to her. But to my father, I must ask: how does one manage to find love in such an incompetent person?
She mopes about like an aimless person. I only ask that she picks up the rock and stones me to death so I can willingly join my mother. But until that day arrives, I sit here drowned in the painful silence. What makes it more excruciating, is the absence of my father who can’t even make time for his own son! He vowed to wed this thing crying beside me, almost certainly to compensate the loss of his true love. It’s the truth – I just wish he were here to confirm it.
The rock, mutely placed in front of me, stared attentively. Her deafening cry began to seal the room in split-seconds. I didn't bother looking at her. Nothing means much more to me than she does.
I feel quite exhausted now; troubled with countless thoughts puckering about. I got up ,cautiously. As I make my way to my bedroom for an early nap, she whispers “You forgot something…” I look back only to find her standing, biting her lip in rage, with the rock compressed by her fingertips.
I couldn't believe what happened next… I will never forget it.
As I continued to glare at the rock, my step-mother walked in.
“Why so morose?” she asked.
“Not sure you’d understand; you’d have to actually have a soul” I grinned.
“Try me”
“Forget it”
“Why do I even ask?” She grumbled.
She walked to the kitchen counter and dropped the laundry basket hastily into the sink. She stood there furiously. She came back and stood sturdily in front of me, staring at the rock.
“What is it doing on my coffee table?”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t even look at her.
“Speak to me!” she demanded. “Please… I’m trying to help you” she pleaded, sorrowfully.
“You can help yourself to the door”
I glanced at her when she bowed in despair… she began weeping. I felt a bit terrible, but I didn’t have the nerve to apologize.
I wish my mother was with me. Ever since she passed away, I’ve been feeling confused and immensely depressed. I’m confused as to why god took her life instead of mine, and I’m depressed because I lost the person who meant the world to me. Such were my thoughts.
I woke up this morning to a pillow clenched in tears and a world that seemed… empty and dim. I haven’t seen my father ever since the funeral. He dumped me in this gritty house with this grief-stricken woman whom he is now engaged to. My father is nothing but an ATM machine to her. But to my father, I must ask: how does one manage to find love in such an incompetent person?
She mopes about like an aimless person. I only ask that she picks up the rock and stones me to death so I can willingly join my mother. But until that day arrives, I sit here drowned in the painful silence. What makes it more excruciating, is the absence of my father who can’t even make time for his own son! He vowed to wed this thing crying beside me, almost certainly to compensate the loss of his true love. It’s the truth – I just wish he were here to confirm it.
The rock, mutely placed in front of me, stared attentively. Her deafening cry began to seal the room in split-seconds. I didn't bother looking at her. Nothing means much more to me than she does.
I feel quite exhausted now; troubled with countless thoughts puckering about. I got up ,cautiously. As I make my way to my bedroom for an early nap, she whispers “You forgot something…” I look back only to find her standing, biting her lip in rage, with the rock compressed by her fingertips.
I couldn't believe what happened next… I will never forget it.