mirima

I'm standing out in the cold, knee deep in snow. A shovel in my hands, and I'm plugged into my mp3 player. All I can hear is my internal soundtrack. I can feel the cold on my skin from the air, and the soft cold bits of snow that fall into the air as I whip the shovel around, trying to clear off the driveway. I wish I had a snowblower. I wish there wasn't so much snow. I wish I was somewhere else. Even drowning out all of this can't keep me happy. I no longer know where my happy place is.

My sister abandoned me to go make some money. I go in and out of the house, determined to finish the job, but not the point where I pass out from exhaustion. I need help, I think to myself, and then think again. Maybe I can do it all myself. Maybe I can prove to myself that I can be the best that I can be. Maybe I can prove to my parents that just because I don't have a job doesn't mean I'm lazy.

I look up at the sky, and see the beautiful colors of the sunset. I listen to a ballad playing softly in my ears. I think of him...telling me how much I mean to him last night. I think of him trying so hard to be the best that he can be. I smile on the inside, and keep shoveling. If he can do it, so can I. If he can keep going despite all his obstacles, so can I.

The wind whispers to me....