My Recycled Soul (A Sample)

The day of leaving flies at me with unexpected speed and I am sad to say goodbye to my room, my house, my street and most of all my friends.

I cry discreetly in the taxi, all the way to the airport. At the airport, I walk a few steps behind my family, letting them lead me away from everything that makes me who I am.

The tears continue running down my cheeks silently on the airplane, no matter how hard I try to swallow away the sadness that has become my every moment.

My mom sits next to me, and while I stare out of the little window to my side, trying not to sniff too loudly, she leans closer to me. She whispers softly, "Stop crying, Elizabeth. Change makes you a more independent and emotionally stronger person."

I ignore her and I cannot understand why she does not leave me to wallow in self-pity by myself because I honestly just want to be alone.

I now dislike my mom for her ignorance and I really despise Sean for his selfishness. I wish my mom had never met him, ever.

My mom met Sean when I was only five years old after my dad died a year earlier in a car accident on his way home from work. I helped my mom during that year. I was my mom's shoulder to cry on, making sure she got up in the mornings, letting her lean on me emotionally. I was so sure my mom would never get over my dad.

Therefore, imagine my shock, when one day, soon after my fifth birthday, I found Sean sitting in our living room, on my dad's chair. He was laughing so loudly, he reminded me of an evil villain from one of my cartoon shows.

Ignoring him did not help either, because after that day he seemed to be a permanent fixture and they got married a year later.

My mom looked so content again and although initially I felt jealous of having to share her, Sean's quick smile and reassuring presence made him nice to have around.

Not anymore.

Arriving in Ireland to pressing grey skies does not help to cheer me either.

We drive most of the day. We landed in Dublin and now have to cross a country from its east coast to its west. At home, it would have taken only two to three hours to drive the same distance, but the roads here are meandering lazily through the countryside and past little villages.

My eyes continue to stare unseeing through the rain-stained window at the passing scenery, yet I smile interested when my mom or Sean point out something they find beautiful or exciting. Even though, it feels as if my entire being is still on the other side of the planet, I do not want to be the one to dampen the happy atmosphere in the car.