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Shooting Star

Shooting Star

I sit at the edge of the cliff, mindlessly staring into space in front of me, my mind wandering to forbidden thoughts. Thoughts, which have me occupied for the past few days. Thoughts, which have made me unable to focus on anything around me, getting me a few annoyed stares from my friends and family.

‘You’re not yourself these days,’ they say.

‘What’s wrong?’ Is ask.

But how can I tell them the reason of my mental absence? How can I tell them that I’ve been consumed by depression when I know there is no one who will understand? How can I tell them that I’m yearning to see the light when all I see in darkness?

My mind races through all this as I take in my surroundings. I see the dark silhouette of the wild trees around me, their branches scattered in all directions, seeming as if they’re coming at me. They don’t scare me. Darkness doesn’t scare me. Wild trees looking like monsters don’t scare me. What scares me is being all alone, when I let my demons come out and get hold of my mind.

I shriek as I feel the chilly winter wind hit my bare arms. It was absurd of me to come out like this in such a harsh weather. But I don’t mind the cold either. I close my eyes, letting it seep inside me, and lay back.

I open them a while later to look at the sky above. I can’t help but gasp at the sight I see. I’ve never seen so many stars in my entire 19 years of miserable life. They look like heaven. It feels like they’re there to guide people, to throw light when all you see there is darkness.

Suddenly, my eye catches one star in particular. It’s not stationary. It’s moving. It takes me a while to realize that it’s a shooting star. My heart starts palpitating inside my chest loudly.

‘Your wish comes true whenever you see a shooting star and wish,’ they say.

That is what I do. Gathering all the little bits of hope inside of me, I clasp my hands together, close my eyes, and wish. When I’m done, I open my eyes and feel my cheek wet. I didn’t even realize I was crying.

My heart feels lighter now, my senses getting dull. I can still listen to the voice of the cricket next to me, the voice of fireflies somewhere around me, but I can’t pinpoint where. The sound of silence along with the sounds of animals in the air gets intoxicating, and they lull me to sleep, drowning me in oblivion.

It feels good, I realize. My eyes droop with heaviness and lack of sleep. I close them and let nature take hold of me. I let myself relax. The last thing I remember before sleeping is that I was smiling.


About The Author

Hamda Shafiq

Social, friendly, extrovert. Loves to talk about deep shit. Personal therapist of many, so you know where to come when you need to talk. Very understanding. Not very good with sarcasm, unfortunately. And an aspiring (plus mediocre) artist and writer, aiming to break walls, and become a legacy.