By: Evelyn Zagula
Reciting the lines over and over again in my head,
I searched for patterns in the words so as to not forget them.
They were too good to lose.
Why is it that the best ideas come to me at the worst possible times?
My mind seems to speak its thoughts not when I ask it to, but when I am most occupied. As if it wishes
not to be heard. Only this time I did not disregard its cries.
Gossip from the back of the crowded bus attempts to distract me; but this only makes my focus stronger.
Usually, I would tune in – trying to hear their drama-filled whispers.
But not this time. I was too concentrated.
At last, the bus shrieks to a stop and I get off in a hurry.
I surprised myself that I have kept the words in my head for this long already.
Only 5 more minutes until I can let them out. 3 if I walk faster than normal.
With my house in sight, I searched desperately in my disorganized backpack for my keys.
But upon reaching the front door, I noted it had already been unlocked.
Strange… However, I had more important things to worry about.
My room was colder than it typically was; cold and messy. That part was normal.
Underneath all the papers on my desk was my favourite red ink pen.
It did not appear as red as it used to, against my crossed-out tests and harshly edited essays.
None of that mattered to me anymore. My effort goes towards other things now.
Pen in hand, I begin writing.
Everything I tried so hard to remember all day escaped out onto the blank paper.
When I finished, I did not even bother reading it over. I didn’t want to, yet.
I decided to save the initial reading for a time in the near future.
Folding and sealing it in the envelope, I thought about where I was going to keep this letter.
A place that I could not forget about, since I would not be seeing it for years.
At least that was the plan.
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