I look at the stars shining above me. Gleaming with beauty. I count as many as I can. The many blades of grass itch at my skin. A small tear falls from the side of my face and onto the ground. There are many reasons I wind up like this, in the field behind my house, alone. Heartbreaks, friendship, my family, or even myself.
Some Times I tell myself, why am I crying? I have everything I need. A warm home, running water, clean clothes, food, and a family who loves me. I get wonderful things like television, games, music, dancing, but yet, something missing. Not just in my safety and things to keep me alive. There's something missing in me. Somewhere behind my voice and deeper than my thoughts. A place in my chest feels empty. Like there's something meant to be there but it needs to be slid back into place so that I feel normal again. But yet I still lay in the grass with no attempt to find that missing piece, counting the stars.
YOU ARE READING
• Counting The Stars •
Teen FictionOne Two Three... Sixteen... Twenty-four... I keep counting to pass the time. I play connect the dots to keep my mind busy. To keep it from roaming back to my thoughts. The thoughts I don't like. The ones that keep me up at night and force me to thro...
