I have always felt like the world doesn’t see me; they don’t notice that I need them. They didn’t see the grimace and tears behind my smile.
When they do however, they always walk away, so why did I do the same?
Why did I walk away from him when I knew that he needed someone to tell him that he was going to be okay?
Why couldn’t I be selfless and forget about my troubles for a minute?
I could see him begging with his eyes like I always did, but I just couldn’t bring myself to walk towards him.
I was scared that I was only going to add to his problems. So, I walked away, and suddenly, I became one of the people I resented.
So am I them, or were they just like me?
About the Creator
Deborah
Everyone has a story; I love telling mine through stories and self-help books. I love reading a bit too much and have learned a lot. I'm excited to join this community and meet many amazing people.
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford6 days ago in Fiction
Starting Line
____________________ You wince, conceding this one race. My first victory in 20 outings against you. I'd celebrate with a victory lap, punching arms overhead with happy fists, dancing my best Rocky Balboa up the crunchy hills like grassy Philly stairs, but I'm too winded.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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