When I was 13, I went on a walk, not for the first time and not for the last time, but still different all together. Looking back now, it was the day that I saved my life, it was the day I became a sole survivor.

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Shahnawaz Mann 11 MD                                                                      Page         

My fictional story

     When I was 13, I went on a walk, not for the first time and not for the last time, but still different all together. Looking back now, it was the day that I saved my life, it was the day I became a sole survivor. I wasn’t walking to clear my thoughts but I was walking away, away from the person I had become. I walked and I talked, to no one in particular, just to myself. Without an audience, without a judgmental ear, I talked. I have spent 13 years walking and 13 years talking, but yet still in 19 years no one has listened and I have never reached a destination.

     Tomorrow will be different. I say "will" to myself with an assurance that it has to be different. When I look back on life I don’t laugh and I don’t cry, I think. What in the hell have I done to myself? In 13 years the biggest struggle I am yet to overcome is surviving me. It sounds so imaginary and yet so real at the same time. I am my own biggest adversary, because I have been responsible for my own destruction and my own savior all at the same time. As I walk on this night, people stare and look at a girl destroyed, reduced to a walk leaving insanity and searching for sanity. I start to talk again, holding not a conversation but a monologue with myself.

     The most prominent memory I have of life is sadness. So far I have accomplished nothing and sabotaged everything I ever wanted. I didn’t want failure, but yet I am here. I didn’t want to be lonely, but yet walking alone on his dark night embodies it all the same. I didn’t want to be lost and yet I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize the person I have become and the question arises again: What have I done to myself? This time I say the question out loud but with a sadness that makes me cry. The single tear slides down my face and drops to the ground in silence. You used to wipe my tears away with your hand. You used to kiss my tear stained face and make me smile. You gave me a security I may never find again. Now I wipe my own tears and attempt to smile. A month ago I left the only security I have ever possessed. I guess to get the full effect of this journey you have to understand this cycle of destruction, the person that rescued me and then let me free to rescue myself. It’s almost like you are here, shaking your head in agreement as I proceed with my story. I smile, recognizing the acceptance I see in the in the emptiness of this night and continue.

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     I was raised to lose. The game was set up so that I couldn’t win. I played for keeps and yet lost it all. Reflecting back on the dark shadow that towered over me in disapproval, I see my own imminent failure. The shadows were never satisfied. As a child I tried so hard to be all that they wanted and yet failed every time. In some kind of effort to reach impossible standards I took control of the only thing I had any control of, myself. I tortured to be something everyone could love. I never strived ...

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