English – Goodbye
By Rosie Neocleous
I close my eyes, trying to block out the sunlight pouring in through the small, dismal window of my bedroom. Tugging at my blankets, trying to pull them over my face, I want to block out every inch of the world that I can. Darkness, that’s all I want to see, all I feel inside. I can hear the sound of my mother, pottering about downstairs. I wait for her to come up to me, to call my name and tell me to get up, that it’s a beautiful day outside and would be absurd to waste it moping around the house all day. But I guess she’s given up trying to get through to me now. She knows that I will refuse to acknowledge her. What’s the point of getting up when you have nothing good in your life to get up for – or no-one special in your life to get up to? To share beautiful days like today. We had our whole lives ahead of us. Our whole future planned out together as one. Both of us, so hungry for life… these hopes and dreams are now nothing but distant memories.
My aim of trying to block the overwhelming power of the sun’s rays has proved to be unsuccessful. It’s as if the sun is urging me to get up, to make the most of myself. Grudgingly, I pull back the covers from over my head. The intense brightness of the morning sky wakes me up, as if a sudden bolt of electricity has shot through my body. I clamber out of bed, making my way to the window. I can hear the birds in the trees, singing for all their little hearts are worth. It’s as if the whole world has forgotten, they have moved on, leaving me stuck dwelling in the past. Abruptly, I realise how hot and stuffy my room is. As I reach out and open my window, I am overcome by the cool freshness of the air. This is the first time I have felt air like this on my skin for weeks. I look out over the horizon, my eyes exploring every detail of my surroundings. It is a brilliant autumn morning, blue skies that seem to go on forever, and the freshness of the air is almost as crisp as the autumn leaves I can see frolicking around the pavements, waiting for a certain someone to come along and crunch them. Then a certain person comes to my mind. I aggressively pull my curtains shut, again trying to block out the outside world. An overwhelming sense of guilt overcomes me. I don’t know why I punish myself for thinking happy thoughts. Yes I do. It’s my way of coping with my loss. I realise what a selfish cow I sound like, but can anyone blame me for feeling like this? All my friends have seemed to forget about me. They have given up on coming round to see me.
I shut my eyes and try to remember the old times. When he was still here. But
flashbacks keep flooding into my head. Of the last time I ever saw him
