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Romanticizing Memories

By @KayRange

Memory

In the cool of the night air, a lone bird was perched on a branch observing its surroundings. The full moon lit its way as he glanced over in my direction, curious at the sight he saw within. He wasn’t the only one drawn out by the night.

A young girl with pure white, almost shoulder length hair that complimented her pale skin, was looking out the second floor window with her telescope. She was gazing at the full moon, comforted by its serene appearance. She was the only one living here. Bedroom walls were filled with pictures and paintings from all over the world, both drawn by her or printed. The Washington Monument, hot air balloons, castles and cathedrals. They were hung with masking tape, which I appreciated. She would stare at them for hours, sometimes with a quizzical gaze, sometimes with almost mournful eyes. She walks aimlessly around this room. Pulling the lamp chain on the table by her bed on and off, laying on the bed, jotting sad quotes down in her journal from time to time. I couldn’t help but watch her as she did everything with the same downcast expression. 

She was an odd girl. Continuously roaming around aimlessly with her cold bare feet giving me a chill. She would often do strange things when she wasn’t roaming. Standing in front of the mirror pushing the corners of her mouth up, practicing to smile was what she did the most. She would draw while sitting on the kitchen floor. She would put so much effort into a drawing and then rip it up, dissatisfied. She would cut her hair while looking into a now shattered mirror. In the daytime, she liked to cover her face with her hair while wearing a crown of branches. She would sit behind me in a tiny triangle shaped tent for hours, just staring at the overgrown grass that needed attention I couldn’t give it. The strangest thing she would do, is pretend the bust statue was real. She would put lipstick on the statue and dance with it in her arms. They would dance for hours, all around me. She always took such good care of that bust. 

Then, one night she burned all of her drawings. The flames engulfed her precious drawings and she just watched, not a hint of emotion. She then walked down the bridge that connected me over the clearing to the next plot of land. I watched her for as long as I could, she eventually made it to a well lit car tunnel. She turned around to look in my direction, she was holding something. It was the one drawing she kept. She turned her attention to the picture, running her fingers over it. Then, she continued down the tunnel. 

I never saw her again. As I recalled my time with her, I remembered a little of what she would write in her journal. “There is a lack within me that is not filled forever” It was a quote that she loved. It was then I realized that she was in search for something. All of the strange things she did, she did to find what was missing. To find something she could feel. To find comfort and acceptance. As I sat with this realization, I wondered if I brought any comfort to her during this journey. I hope I did, since she stayed with me for so long. I hope she finds what she is looking for on her journey. I hope that if she stays with any of my comrades, that they can give her protection like I did. I couldn’t give her as much protection as the castles and cathedrals she loved, but I could offer a warm place within my walls for her to be herself. 

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