Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Write something in the YOUNG ADULT or TEEN genre (06/07/07)
- TITLE: The Thinking Place
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I know I can not stay here too much longer today both physically and emotionally. I must enter back down into reality, my reality and their reality. I take my last drag on the cig and it burns as I feel the tightness in my chest.
That tightness feels like a large hand grasping my lung and squeezing it; the pressure chokes off my air supply, my life. If I could just pry that hand, even one finger at a time, I could gain my strength, catch my breath, breathe deep and inhale all the opportunities I think I might have before me. Those are like this L.A. haze though, I can sort of know they are there but seem ever so unatainable for me, clouded by the stuff down below. I must somehow break free from all that. The cigarettes are my choice, but the other strangulating pressures in my ife I can not seem to break free of until I have my own breath, my own ideas.
If I could be free to voice those questions, I would ask: Why do I feel insignificant in this family? Why does my mother sit and stare out the window for hours and not talk? What does a hug feel like? Why does my dad not come home sometimes at night when he leaves for work? Why does Mrs. Johnston want to tell me about Jesus so much? Do other families talk about God everyday? I only thought God came at Christmas.
When I am up here, looking at the city below and watching the people hurry to their buses and trains and jobs or families, I wonder about the different sort of lives they may have. I think about Mrs Johnston's son, William, who was just killed in the war, if he is really in Heaven. It is that place I learned about when Mrs. Johnston took me to Sunday School class. Does he have a new body now? Does he get to do what he always wanted to do? Does he know I am thinking about him now?
Well, I guess my thinking time is done. I have to go back to that place where my questions will bounce off the walls like soap bubbles. I believe God spies me up here though. I do not know how I know this, but it is just a funny feeling that someone is listening to my heart. I hope it is you, God, because I really want to believe.
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