. . .
You always said, “Leave no stone unturned!”
I tried, I really did. Once I was on my own, I tried everything. I had to find something. What it was, I could never figure out; all I knew was that something was missing.
I searched through that room of mine (the one you had always told me to clean), through the junk that had been left behind to fill it, but to no avail; all I found were the echoes of a once-familiar childhood. I clawed through the faded toy chests and the dusty closet, revealing nothing but half-forgotten memories. I moved on to the kitchen, throwing open the cabinets and drawers, letting out the aromas of the days we spent together. As those decadent smells graced the air, the void inside me grew, if not just due to hunger. Uncovering nothing at home, I set off to find that which could not be found.
I traveled thousands of miles, through misty forests, snowy peaks, and fiery deserts. I filled my mind with the beauty of the world, taking in scene after scene and piecing them together to create a shelter for myself. I filled my body with exotic foods, sustenance to fuel me in my search, since the lone thing I was unable to fill was the pit in my soul that grew deeper with each day that I found myself looking for what I lost. I made a trail that wrapped all around the world twice over. The money I threw away was no object compared to the cost of the thing I had lost. Somehow I knew that, no, felt it. Yet I still could not find it, let alone discover what it could possibly be, thus I returned home empty-handed.
I sat at home for days, just thinking. I took down that patchwork shelter in my mind to let my thoughts escape and wander freely. I let my body wither away; I was unable to even eat. Eventually I had nothing left but the hole in my heart. It seemed as if there was nothing I could do to fill that abyss, so I turned to the things I could not do. My soul left behind my body and mind and I reached for things I never should have reached for. I was desperate. I felt like I had no other option but to cross that line. Before that happened, though, I caught up with myself and refused to allow my soul to be torn apart and stomped on. How weak I was, not even able to follow through with what seemed like the only way out. Instead of drowning my sorrows as most people in my state would do, I could only drown myself in tears. I cried, and as I let it all out I realized. I understood it all. What I uncovered had to be the truth, or else the drops flowing down my cheeks could not have felt so good. The void in my heart never grew deeper, nor did my mind or body fill up as I had thought. Instead, I had merely been building a wall around that pit, making it harder and harder to reach. Now I knew that I had to fill that hole, so I ran toward it.
I ran to the cemetery, to the hole covered by the only stone I had to leave alone.
And I filled that hole with love. The love I never gave to you when you were still by my side.
i think i've seen this before. or maybe cross read it in class?
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