Who We Are Is Not Always Who We Want To Be

My first SUPER short story that I have written in a very long time. I am a little rusty and I hope it does not show too much in my work. Please leave a rating and a comment. I would love to hear you.

"Hello? Hello? Can anyone hear me?" I ask the crowd of people walking all around me.

 

I can feel their emotions, I can hear their conversations. But yet I cannot seem to view any of their faces.

 

Now that I think about it, they speak, but say no words.

 

“Hello?” I ask again, this time with a sense of anxiousness. “Please can you help me?”

 

No, no one.

 

They ignore me.

 

I raise my hand. I lift it up high. Just to grab anyone’s attention. Just to have a pair of eyes glance in my way, even for a second, would remind me I exist.

 

“Please!” I exclaim.

 

No one.

 

My spirit falls, I look down, my hands becoming translucent. I can feel my body starting to disappear.

 

I am nothing but a mirage, nothing but a whisper.

 

I look around again, and for one last time, I raise my hand, hoping in my final moments before I am gone that maybe, just maybe, one spirit, one soul, will notice me.

 

Wait…

 

There, in the mist, among the crowd, an arm raises.

 

“Hello!” I cry, I run with my arm still raised. The crowd does not seem to notice me pushing them aside, but that does not matter, there is one soul who recognizes me, I do not need the crowd, I need this soul.

 

I am running and running, my heart elevating, adrenaline filling me with life.

 

I am a mere few steps away.

 

Finally…

 

I take my last step; and, suddenly, any remaining enjoyment has left my very being.

 

My voice pushes out a small “No...” as I gaze in fright upon the person before me. My heart is beating so fast that I can barely feel it, my body breaks into a cold sweat, my stomach becoming violently nauseous.

 

No, not this soul. I do not want this soul. I hate this soul.

 

I hate this soul. I hate this soul.

 

My fear is turning into a burning hatred as those words possess my mind.

 

“No!” I scream. “I hate this soul!” A fist races into the chest of the soul. Their eyes looked at me with terror, despair, and even longing right before the soul broke into a million pieces.

 

My chest felt as though it was collapsing. Then I noticed the crowd was staring at me. Everyone, everywhere, every person staring at me. Not with their own eyes, no, they all had the eyes of that soul.

 

A scream ripped through the air, it was my voice, my scream.

 

Then my eyes opened and I was screaming into my room.

 

I sat up in my bed, covering it in sweat, the nausea from the dream had brought itself into my reality. The moonlight comes through my room hitting the mirror across from me. It shows a pale figure, eyes wild, body shaking. The image scares me. I quickly get up and throw a blanket over it and lay back on my bed.  After a few minutes my body and mind had calmed, but, to no surprise, I was unable to go back to sleep.

 

Days turned into weeks and almost every night I have had the same dream. My anxiety is up to its breaking point, depression follows me in my shadow. My imagination is starting to mix with real life and I am starting to not be able to discern between truth and make believe.

I just want this nightmare to stop, I want to be able to sleep. I have been hating myself more than usual lately, my relationships are falling apart.

 

Why am I like this, why was I created this way.

 

What makes it worse is that every day as I grow more and more upset, the worse the dream becomes; but I have become more and more upset due to the dream. It is a torturous cycle that I am unable to escape.

 

Somedays I can barely stand to look at myself in the mirror.

 

I can’t do this, I can’t be like this anymore. I hate the person I have become and I need to stop it now.

 

I nervously crept into my bed, hoping that tonight would be the last time.

I took a look around and the dream is starting the same way as all the other times. I can feel the loneliness and wanting for just a small glance from a fellow soul to look my way. My endless despair of realizing that I will be eternally alone is beginning to bubble up inside of me. Except this time there is something different.

 

I remember.

 

I am remembering where I am, what I am doing, that I am dreaming. This has never happened before. There is something else that is different as well. I look around the dream again.

 

I recognize them.

 

I recognize every single person in my dream. My family, friends, teachers, neighbors, every person who is involved in my life.

 

Maybe they will notice me this time.

 

“Hello! It is me! Look!” But to my dismay no one looks, no one turns around, no one even seems to realize I am here.

 

The loneliness is getting worse. The dream is the worst it has ever been.

Why, why are you doing this to me?

 

I realize the inevitable must happen, I must see this dream to the end. I raise my hand, yelling at the top of my lungs that I am here.

 

There it is. The arm is stretched up high, a symbol of my agony. I keep my hand held up and run toward the soul. My body is trying to stop me, the sickness returns, with every step I fear as though my heart will burst. I do not know what is worse: being horribly surprised at the end of every dream when I found out who I am running to, or knowing the nightmare that is ahead of me.

 

I have finally made it to the owner of the outstretched arm.

 

This dream is too much, I can’t do it. I have to wake up.

 

I am about to wake myself up when I see the soul is sobbing. I stare at them for a second, unsure if I should stay or run.

 

I take a deep breath.

 

“Are you ok?” I quietly ask.

They keep sobbing until I notice the bruises and cuts all over them.

 

“I…I did that to you didn’t I?” A realization overcomes me like darkness after dusk. I start shaking and fall on my knees. The soul is staring at me with large tears rolling down their face. “I’m sorry.” I say quietly with my own newly made tears. “I’m so sorry!” I yell and my crying becomes worse and worse. “I did that to you. I have done nothing but abused and ran from you. I was so scared of you, I hated you. I am so sorry.” My fists and face hit the ground, I am sobbing uncontrollably. “I thought you were the monster, but no, it was me.”

 

I continue to cry when I feel a hand on my back, I look up to stare into those eyes. A warm smile on the face.

 

“I forgive you.” Says the soul. I slowly stand to my feet shivering and sniffling.

 

The soul looks at me, never giving away that warm smile, their eyes have nothing but kindness in them. They lock their arms around my body and I respond with mine around theirs. We both hold each other so tight.

 

“I am going to change, I promise. I will never walk away from you again. I will be different.” I hold them closer.

 

“I know, I know you will. I am just happy that you are ok.”

 

We let go of each other, I am smiling with tears of joy. I step back from the soul. I take another good look at them.

 

The mirror shows the soul with such a relieved smile, with nothing but forgiveness and even hope in the eyes.

 

The mirror shows me.