The Day The World Went Away

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Girls thoughts outside a church as she grieves and attempts to deal with the loss of an acquaintance.

Submitted: April 14, 2013

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Submitted: April 14, 2013



The Day the World Went Away

She sat outside the locked doors of the Church. “God’s doors are always open”, apparently not. She had spent the last two hours walking around the city desperately hoping someone, anyone would notice. The pain and the loneliness she was going through. No one did. Maybe it was selfish, conceited, self indulgent thing to do, why would they? Maybe she had wandered around before when someone else was desperately crying out for help on the inside and she didn’t notice. Maybe someone closer cried out for help and it went unnoticed. It did or why else would she be feeling this way?
She had walked around in pain, she had even decided to put her faith into humanity and spark up a conversation with a stranger. Briefly.  A complete stranger. Maybe they didn’t realise or maybe they didn’t want to know. Who does want to know? Who else is there to talk to talk to? Friends only want to hear so much before it becomes repetitive and then they don’t want to hear anymore. Counsellors cost money. After she had attempted to speak to the stranger she had carried on walking when stood in front of her was a majestic cathedral. Almost like a calling from god. Yet here she was sitting on the steps outside.
It was a dull, gloomy day reflecting her mood. How had everything become so messed up? How could one decision made by one person completely toss her life into turmoil? Not just her life but everyone who came into contact with that person and then their own contacts. It was like a spider web that branches out and touches everyone in some form. She was one of the many flies trapped in the web. She learnt at school how everything was interconnected, how we depend on each other to survive, no one is ever truly independent. It was only now she was beginning to understand the more personal aspect of this concept.
She closed her eyes and shook her head attempting to clear her mind. She turned her attention to the passer – bys, wondering what each of them had gone through. Everyone has a story to tell but who will tell it? In society we seem only able to say things and then it’s said and done, move on. Move on to what???! WHAT??  How are we suppose to move on to deal with these things? In school we learn how to solve maths problems, how to read between the lines of poetry and books but what about the lines of life or death? We’ve all experienced death and life continues forward even harsher than before.  She was constantly told “Life goes on”. She would be saying it too if it was someone else. It’s not until your put in that position do you realise the callous reality of life. You go through life looking at it from your own eyes thinking this must be your world therefore if it did happen to me, life would stop. When it does happen it’s a complete shock.
A priest walks out and picks up something from outside and doesn’t notice her, does anyone? Maybe one day she’ll wake up and realise that this is all a dream. That everything she thought was real wasn’t. It felt like a dream nothing did seem real. Her memory had become vague and clouded. Was it her mind shutting down to help her? If it felt this awful in a dream like state what would it feel like if she was fully awake? How did everyone else deal with it? Or do they? She didn’t know. Death happens every day/ minute/ second yet how could it still be such a difficult concept to understand? Life goes on. Can anyone ever look at someone and truly realise? Is everyone else in a dream like state too? Too afraid to wake up. Too afraid to grasp reality.
She wanted to talk to someone, needed to. She wanted to talk until she was back in reality, whatever that was, until she could fully understand herself, just keep talking until it stopped hurting. Just talk. There was no outlet for her. She feared maybe the rest of her life would be like this unless she talked or maybe the rest of her life would just constitute of talking. Would it help? Would people listen? Did she want them to? Or did she just want someone to be there? Anyone.
To come to a church was almost a desperate step for her. Religion had never been a big factor in her life yet here she was sitting outside a church just hoping. Should she talk to god would that help? Would he/she/it even listen or would she just be talking to herself like she always did? Would it make a difference? So many people put their faith in god, they pray/talk to him, does it help or are they just fooling themselves, believing someone’s there to listen to the, when these no one else. Is there ever really anyone there? Does anyone ever truly listen? Does she ever truly listen? The world is truly a lonely place. We are always alone with our thoughts. There are so many unspoken, forbidden words isolated in our mind. If we spoke them would some of this loneliness evaporate?
Life goes on. She had to move on. It was time to get up and go home. Her feet were numb and wet. She just wanted to go home and sleep. It was her only one true escape. Probably why she slept so much now the dream like state wasn’t enough. As she exited the Church and onto the main street she bumped in to her friend
“Hey how are you?” they asked smiling.
“Hey I’m ok, you?” she smiled back. “I’m just on my way home.”

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