Writing Catalog

Lucy Dolzine

Grade: 8

Laurel School

Instructor: Kate Webb

Windows with no Light


Windows with no Light

Pink Room-
It started with words. Words I can barely recall. Words that didn't hurt then. Words that hurt now. All because I over-thought. Because what I thought about myself changed the words that came from you. I kept hearing that everyone goes through it. I didn't listen. I just cried. I cried and cried and cried. And I cried in that pink room. The room that got so dark. So dark that I cried in fear that the darkness would get me. Crawl into my head and cause more pain. That wasn't pain. I didn't even know what pain was. Then it was the worst thing in the world. Now it's something that makes me uncomfortable but not enough to return to that pink room. To that place that made me ill. That pink room that made me cry over my insecurities. The ones I overthought just because of un-hurtful words and that pink room.

It was a white room. No, it was vanilla. Vanilla with 2 plants. Plants that stood out. Caught your eye. The plants on the radiator. The dirty, old, beautiful radiator. Directly under the windows. The windows with blinds. The windows that you could see from both mirrors. The dark room. It was so dark. Darker than the pink room. Silence. There was never any noise. Just dark nothingness. The nothingness that I cried in. I cried enough to water the plants. I cried about my insecurities. My flaws. I cried about my friends. I cried for my friends. I cried because they were my only escape. My friends. They were the only way I could breathe. When we were together, I took deep breaths. Breaths that could last me till tomorrow. When I ran out of breath, I cried. That's when I cried. After I ran out of breath.

In the succulent room. You know, the vanilla one with 2 plants. The succulent room was where I cried the most. The darkness didn't help. It only made it worse. The mirrors… the light. Wait. The light? The light from behind the blinds. The street light. The binds that brought the darkness. When they opened, I thought they made it better. I thought that the orange, beautiful light would save me. It didn't. The light just became foggy. The tears just kept coming. Rolling down my cheeks. Flowing like a river. Making the light foggier and foggier. But it was so quiet. All you could hear were the cars driving by. That was it. No rustling trees. Just my head pounding and the cars going by. All because the curtains were open.

Windows and Rollercoasters-
It all started with rides. Rides that go up, down, and upside down. Then it became abandonment. I was left alone. Left alone to cry in my room. The room didn't have succulents. It wasn't pink. This one was mine. My room. It didn't make it better. My room was where I saw the flaws in people. People I loved. I only saw the flaws. I still see them. They were better then. They are worse now. I was breaking. The people I loved seemed to be walking. Walking farther and farther away. Breaking me. I couldn't call to them. They wouldn't hear me. It was like they were on a rollercoaster going over a hill where they couldn't see me. Then I would go to my room and break. I would break, crack, crumble. Crumbled until I cried. Cried with the curtains open. With the light that I thought helped. It didn't. They just kept walking. And left me behind, broken.

Now we are in the present. Present feelings, thoughts, and flaws. The flaws I still see in others. I see people who need help. People who are drowning. I was like that once. Afraid to be swallowed by the darkness. It started with seeing the flaws in me. Now it has escalated into seeing flaws in others. I see them and what do I do? I do nothing. I sit there and wait. I wait for them to figure it out. I know that it isn't a good thing, but I can't help it. I just keep crumbling. I still feel alone sometimes. Not as much as I did, but it hurts more now. I thought that it hurt then. Not compared to this. I still feel like people are leaving. I know that instead of pushing them farther away and waiting for them to come back, I should pull them closer. It will hurt, but I have to do it. I have to be their streetlight. I have to be the one to keep them from being swallowed. Because they could be feeling the same as I was. They could be crying in their pink room. Or in their succulent rooms. Or maybe they could be crumbling in their room. Even if I am feeling alone, ill, swallowed, or unstable, I know that the people I love aren't walking away, they are walking to me. Towards me. Remember that. It could save you. Pull you out. Remember…