Looking back at my life, I wonder what I have ever done for the whole world to hate me so much. All those who once loved me-to think I was loved! Why did they turn away from me? Why did they shudder from my name, as if I brought back haunting memories?
It had never been that way before. What had happened to make it all change the way it did? Was I the one responsible for my family shunning me away? They told me I had changed, that I was no longer the person they thought they knew. But I didn’t change. To me, I was always the same person I was my entire life. I had grown up, but I hadn’t changed.
Had I changed?
As I swing my legs over the pier, I can’t help but think these thoughts over and over again. You think I would know the answers to them by now, but you’d be wrong. I don’t know the answers, and I don’t think I ever will. Three long, tough years have gone by at this point, yet I know nothing more than I did at the beginning. The answers are still a mystery to me, and I don’t think I will ever get them.
I stare up at the sun as it gracefully begins its descent under the horizon. To think that something composed entirely of fire, burning thousand of degrees hot can yet look so peaceful and lazy to the onlooker at the same time. I know not of anything else that has the same beauty as the sun. She is beautiful; she is fierce; she is deathly.
The day is coming to another ending. Night will soon take its place. The birds acknowledge this as they begin to say their goodbyes, whilst flying triumphantly through the skies, on their way back home to their nests. They truly are the masters of the skies.
I watch the seagulls call on one another as they head back to their homes in the nearby cliffs. The sea cliffs jut out defiantly into the Atlantic, a symbol of power and struggle. Millennia have gone by, and with them, these cliffs have been carved into the shape they are today; truly magnificent.
The waters of the Atlantic hit the base of the cliffs tauntingly, as if purposely trying to aggravate them, but in another light, it looks as if she is caressing them. I am caught in the grace of this vast ocean. She has charm and elegance, but she also has a temper, which once aroused, is not easily diminished. The Atlantic is as graceful as a swan, yet as fierce as a lion.
The wind is starting to pick up. It lifts my red hair and makes it dance around my face, my form of entertainment. Picking up another stone, I thrust it into the water, hearing it plop! then sink to the depths of the ocean floor. I can’t skip stones. I can’t play with gravity like that, even for a few seconds. The stones always fall straight into the waters, no time for skipping, no time for treading.
My conscience is telling me that it is getting late and that I should return, for the others will begin to wonder where I am. Not worried, just curious of my whereabouts. See, I don’t have a home to return to. Home kicked me out a long time ago. A slap on the cheek, the slam of a door, and just like that, I had been removed from their lives forever more.
Do you think I am going to have a happy ending? You are wrong. Happy endings don’t belong in the real world, in my world. Happy endings are fabricated for our happiness, not for the truth. You find them in movies, but not in life. If you don’t know that by now, well it’s good, I’ve told you now.
Not every story had a happy ending, not every story has a definite ending. I know mine doesn’t.
For the past three years, my life has continued to change, and I think I have changed with it. But has it been for the better or for the worst? Am I changing for a better me? Or a worse me?
To one person, I may be better, to another I may be worse, and that makes it all the more confusing.
Who am I? Where do I belong? Do I still have a place I can call mine in this world? Does it make a difference to the rest of the world if I have this place or not? Does it make a difference to anyone that I’ve changed?
