This is only a piece of the story, for I am still working on it. I was inspired by all the young...
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Life is scary, some people say. To me, it’s an adventure, like seeing the stars for the first time. You get all excited at the beauty and light. Its brightness radiates the night, making you part of it. Mostly, I find life to be love. You can’t go throughout life without love. Or, I can’t anyways. Some people move through their life like a cow. It’s the same repeated pattern to them each and every day. School, graduation, move out, work, maybe go to college, get married, have kids, more work. It’s the same with a lot of people. Nothing really exciting happens, other than the time that you may get promoted or when you get that one thing that you’ve always wanted that will light up your eyes. What makes my life an adventure, you may ask? Oh, honey, lots. Mainly love.
The first time I saw him, he was like a mystery. Like a beautiful mystery that was just daring me to find out. One moment he’s there, and the next he’s not. Like when you have a fish; it’s there for a month or two, then it’s dead and gone. One moment you’re playing “watch the fish” and the next, you’re crying trying to figure out what you did wrong watching the poor, small fish go bye-bye down the toilet.
The moment he walked into the art room, I felt cold, dark eyes piercing my skin with curiosity. I was the only one in the clay class that was different from the others. My clothes weren’t always matching, so my friends say. My studded rainbow belt hung past my posterior on my purple skinny jeans. Chunky combat boots were over the bottom part of the pants. My orange hair- the color of pizza grease- was straightened and teased. I was spinning my clay into a bowl.
For the next week, his dark eyes would stare, and I would ignore the pain and anguish that I saw when I looked into his eyes. The next month, he was dead. Committed suicide, that boy did. That’s where my adventure started. When the lonely soul was lost, and I did nothing.