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Misconceived
10-24-2007, 08:36 PM
The smiling faces, that joyous laughter, the sounds of their endless chattering echoed through my ears. The noises that polluted my mind slowly seized as my brain came to a sudden realization - that was the last time their electrifying sounds ring through my mind. The voices of my friends would haunt me during my slumber, constantly reminding me of the dark hole I have dug myself into.

But I couldn't go back. The image of victorious smiles wiping over my parents pale faces if I returned caused my stomach to lurch. They would taunt me telling me that they had told me running away wouldn't solve my problems. Despite their fighting, the unhappy couple always tried to assure me that they loved me. My brain processed their words, but my heart refused to let them in.

And now I was snuggled up in my dark blue hoody, huddled in the deepest corner of the black alley. The cold cement felt hard against my petite body, my upper lip quivered from the confusion of my situation. I felt my cheeks grow hot as salty tears trailed down my pale cheeks. I rose my dark brown, almost black, eyes to stare into the depths of New York City. A sudden wave of the sun's bright rays found it's way to my pale, dirt-clogged pores and warmed me.

A chill ran down my spinal columns due to the sudden temperature change. I rose one of my feminine-like hands to the cold brick wall and pulled myself off of the rough ground. I didn't bother making the slightest attempt at cleaning up; I merely ran a hand across my baggy dark blue jeans, a poor attempt at brushing the thin layer of dirt that lined them off. Dragging my black and white high-tops across the stony ground, I trudged out of my new home.

The sunlight hit me like a bullet once I arrived in the open streets. The warmth of the sun dried the tears off of my face as my eyes caught a glimpse of a girl around my age, about fourteen, murmuring, "that boy needs a bath". Self-consciously, I ran a hand through my shaggy black hair. Pushing the remark into the back of my tragic mind, I marched off to the nearest park.

Taking a seat on a wooden bench, I zoned out. My eyes stalked a family of three that were throwing a bright orange Frisbee simply enjoying each other's company. Why couldn't my family be like that? Sure, we threw Frisbees, but not at each other or even for the entertainment factor. We chucked them into the deep blue sky to let out all the anger and fury bottled up inside of us.

The sound of soothing lyrics flowing ever-so-gracefully out of a small purple radio resting on a young girl's lap caught my attention. "Sometimes that mountain you've been climbing is just a grain of sand. What you've been out there searching for forever is in your hands. And when you figure out love is all that matters after all, it sure makes everything else... seem so small."

I was brought out of my trance when something smacked into my head, hard. I adjusted my head so that it was staring down at my lap. The orange Frisbee was lying there, limp.

"I'm sorry misther," I heard a little girl chant as I rose my head to see her hovering over her Frisbee, looking at me with those pleading blue eyes begging for my forgiveness.

"It's okay," I noted quietly and returned the Frisbee to its rightful owner.

"Would wou like tho join us?" the four-year-old asked with a lisp.

"No thanks, I've got something to deal with," I informed her as I stood up off the bench, watching her scatter on back to her loving family.

With a sigh I made my way back to my old home, the one that I had ran away from three days ago. I couldn't run from my problems anymore, I had to face them no matter how discouraged they made me. Within a matter of minutes I arrived home. I walked onto the gray floor of the porch and opened the door with a loud creek. Two figured rose their heads and I could see frantic worry in both of their dark brown eyes.

"Benji!" I heard my mother squeal as she wrapped her arms around my slender body. I could smell the strawberry shampoo in her curly dark brown hair and the warmth of her embrace.

"Thank God you're okay!" my father chimed in, blowing my theory that they would rub my return in my face out the window.

"What encouraged you to return home?" my mother asked curiously, a string of relief piercing through her words.

The song that I had heard earlier echoed in my ears. The song showed me that in situations where you feel as if the weight of the world were placed upon your shoulders, you're blowing it out of proportion. People always tend to loose sight of the good in situations, and plant their focus on the bad. Your mind always looses track of the one thing that matters most... love

NOTE: The paragraphs looked longer in my notebook. And Michelle, I told you it SUCKED! :]