The things I carried
Walking slowly, I carefully placed one foot in front of the other, feeling as if my head was going to explode each time the sole of my show hit the floor. My keys sat heavily in my pocket and ever so often rattles as I stepped. They were a friendly reminder, that no matter how bad I felt there was a place for me to fall back to. There was a place where I could lie my head down and, for a moment, forget my storming headache. There was a place where I could close my eyes, slipping away from the real world. From all the pain, terror and angst into a softer fairyland in which all my hopes and wildest thoughts could come true. I felt a smile on my face for a split second, before my foot hit the group again and another wave of pain erupted in my head.
I felt the weight of my phone in my pocket. It was the object that could save and shatter my day. Another message could mean good news; it could be a friend making a joke. Another message could mean horror. It could mean pain and violence. It could mean that the person I had held so close to my heart has slipped away into their fairyland forever. The person who was always there for me, who held me in their arms when I was crying. Whose voice I remember, oh so well, has vanished, now filling other's hearts with joy and comfort. My heart skipped a beat thinking of the happiness the person brought into my life. I was ripped back into reality as I took a step down a stair and a volcano erupted in my head.
The heavy weight of my backpack hung on my shoulders as I took another step down, feeling as if these stairs would last forever. The backpack that contained wonders and horrors. The necklace from my mother reminding me of home and her loving arms, that one Physics paper marked proudly with an 'A', and that letter from my Godfather reminding me of the time I spend with him. The backpack held everything. The straps were still heavy on my back. Heavy from the heart shaped letter I once lovingly held in my hand, the Math quiz screaming out "F", "F", "you've failed", and the heavy books reminding me of all the tests and quizzes yet to come. I took another step forward feeling the now familiar pain again. I took one more stop. And another. Objects, I realized, were heavy when you've got volcanoes erupting in your head.