Category I. Composition

I.A. Fiction

The Glass Is Only Half-Empty

2007

I am different. In the city Liland, everyone is on a journey, except me. My brother is currently on a journey trekking through dense forest looking for a cure said to be able to eradicate cerebral palsy. To me, the effort is worthless, but it’s his journey. He has one at least. I don’t have a journey, yet.

Everyone who lives in Liland is an optimist. The glass is always me, the glass is half-empty, chipped, and it just cut my lip. According to my parents, there is no hope for me. One day I will embark on a journey to please them.

A stranger is walking into town. He wears a jaunty safari hat, loose shirt, and loose khaki shorts. My parents, being the gracious people they are, offer the guest room.

The next day, I wake up, finish my morning routine, and proceed to come down the stairs for breakfast. I notice the guest room slightly ajar. I figure if the man is asleep or away, I can snoop through his bag and try to find out who he is. I walk into the guest room. I rummage quietly through his bag. Finding nothing but old clothes, I sit on the floor, disappointed.

“Can’t figure out who I am?”

I start, and look toward the bed. The stranger is wide awake, with his head propped on his hand. I shake my head indicating a “no.” I heave a sigh. “I really wanted to find out who you were before I left the happy sunshine city!”

He raised an eyebrow. “A little sarcastic are we? Tell me, your leaving the city, is this the “journey” your parents were telling me about yesterday?”

“It’s more of a planned escape than a journey.” I glance up at the clock. I get up to leave. He says, “Have you ever considered the reason you hate journeys so much is because you are afraid of them?” I stop short. I don’t know why, but somehow it seemed like he knows exactly what he is talking about. Am I really scared? How could I not have known that I was scared? I shake my head and silently scold myself. I shouldn’t be scared! This whole journey business is absurd! I never should have followed through with my parents’ plan! I answer no, I’ve never considered the fact that I’m scared, partly because I’m not scared. He gets up and walks toward the window, hands behind his back. You don’t have to deny it, he says. Everyone is afraid at some point in their life. I scoff at this. Why should I be scared and afraid of being alone? I treat everything with indifference. How can I make room for another feeling? Keeping an indifferent attitude all the time is not all fun and games.

He turns to look at me. “Are you alone a lot?”

Have I been thinking out loud?

He smiles and nods. “Why don’t you make friends?”

“Because none of the people I meet are as good as--“ Wait, he doesn’t need to know my personal life.

“As good as what?” A questioning look enters his eyes.

Narrowing my eyes, I reply, “Nothing.”

“When I went on my journey, I lost my little sister. I come back and she’s so grown up and she doesn’t recognize me anymore. But I learned a lot and I’m just sorry that I couldn’t say a proper goodbye to my sister when I left.”

“What journey was so important that you had to leave your little sister?” This was starting to sound like the situation with my brother before he left for his journey.

“Finding a cure for cerebral palsy.”

I stare at him, open-mouthed. Everything starts becoming blurry. No, I can’t cry. I’m supposed to be indifferent. I’m not supposed to care that my brother came back. I’m indifferent! Mental chastising doesn’t work. I start sobbing uncontrollably. I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m happy he’s back, I’m mad he left, or because I’m leaving when he just comes back. Suddenly I feel warmth surrounding me. I realize he’s hugging me. Dang it, now I really can’t stop crying.

He whispers, “I’m sorry I made you this way. I’m sorry I made you indifferent. I couldn’t protect you anymore, so you built up your own defenses. I’m sorry I’m the cause of your hate for optimism, because it reminded you of me. I’m sorry everything that made me happy, made you sad, because I left it behind. I’m sorry I made you this way. But I want you to do something for me. Go on this journey. It is rewarding and helps you gain a wider perspective. Just have courage.” Then he starts singing a lullaby that he sang to me whenever I had nightmares. I feel like a little girl again. It reminds me of the times we used to have. No, I have other things to do. I have to go on my journey. He says to me, “Courage is controlling a fear and not allowing it to control you.”

I realize I am not just embarking on a journey or acting on a planned escape. I am setting out on an expedition to find where I belong. I can not allow my sarcasm to become my identity, no matter how empty the glass gets. I say my goodbyes to my parents and my brother. I hug him in a tight embrace for the advice he has given. I turned my feet to the horizon. I ran, and ran, and ran.