I. OCEAN EYES

AGE 9 - PO TOWN

MY DEMONS WERE DEFEATED

BUT YOU TOOK THEIR SIDE - AND PULLED THEM TO FREEDOM

they're gone.

they fade into the distance under the beating sunshine's rays. you wonder why you didn't run after them when they turned their backs? why didn't you reach your hand out to grab the baby blue shirt your father was wearing to stop him? why didn't you reach for your mother's stainless white bag and tug to keep her from walking? why didn't you throw a tantrum and make a fuss? why did you make it so easy for them to leave?

did you love them? yes, of course you did, which is why you think to yourself, saying that this was for the best, and that this was only a matter of time. it was a given, wasn't it? the signs were all there; the tired gazes, the restless nights, the tears that fell from your mother and the stress and anxiety from your father. the way they had you clean your room and put everything into nicely packed boxes, the way they let you bring the book of music you'd scribble in - messily - yourself. the way they smiled that morning and cleaned themselves up, and the way they seemed hesitant to bring you out here.

it was painfully obvious.

it's hard for sunlight to reach your eyes, and the world grows dim. your lips curl into a smile, regardless, when you lower yourself to the empty curb of a busy sidewalk street. in one hand, you have your book of notes scribbled along the pages. in the other, you have a crumpled up twenty poke-dollar bill. the feeling of paper crinkling between your fingers reminds you of it, and you wonder what you can do with this money. it'll probably be enough to buy you enough food for one meal, but then what? where would you go?

surely, you thought, they wouldn't leave you out here. maybe they really did need you to sit there, all prettied and ready, so they could surprise you when you all go home. that way, you'd be told by mother to prepare for your violin lessons for tomorrow. that way, father could sneak you out later that night to grab some ice cream. that way, you'd be able to wake up the next morning in a clean room after packing things up properly, and you'd be able to go to the doctor, and they'd be able to get you to read again. what fuels this hope?

what fueled it when you sat and waited? it's hard to sit still, so you hum a little tune. when that gets drab, you hold your arms and fingers into the air, though it doesn't feel right when there's nothing actually there. you hum the notes when the phantom bow glides along a string, with the occasional pause when you realize you're just a semi-tone off. then, you restart, again and again, until you get get the composition just right.

after all, you're told to stay there.

one hour of singing passes. two hours of practice passes. three hours of sleeping passes. when you awaken, it's by an elderly man walking down the street gently shaking your shoulder. he looks down to you, with slightly concerned eyes asking "are you okay?". your eyes struggle to meet with his figure, because now the starlight in the sky can't meet your eyes. the darkness all blends together. usually, this would have scared you, and you'd be calling for mother or father, or you'd be reaching for a plush in your large bed to hug and ease the anxiety. you don't have that now.

so you, with a smile on your face, sits up slowly. the twenty dollar bill is still there, and your stomach churns and groans loudly. still, you smile at the person whose face you can't tell apart from the dark. "yes, sir." you say, with a smile to your lips "i'm okay. my parents are gonna pick me up, soon." you lie, gently gripping onto the dirtied book you used as a pillow.

small legs pick themselves up, the fatigue slowly disappearing as you look to what light you can still see. it's so blurry, and signs have become hard to read as you amble like a baby lamb. this hunger gnaws at you, like a ravenous beast. you never had to worry about food on your plate before - you're starting to regret not eating your vegetables or finishing your meals.

your gaze turns up to the lights on the streets - lights that shine brighter than the ones in the sky.

lights that shine brighter than the ones in your eyes.