“Go home, Abby…for now”- said, Terry.

I remember walking out the building confused, filled with rage and discomfort. I thought of going home but I didn’t feel stable enough to put on a straight face. What was I going to say? I knew I didn’t have a place to go, or anyone to talk to. I took a taxi to the airport and asked for the first flight. I didn’t care about the destination; I just felt the need for a different air. I didn’t know if I could go home to my mom. I didn’t know if she was involved in all this. How much does she know?

I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think about anything.

I arrived in Lisbon… barely remembering the flight. I can recall being in between falling asleep and sweating. I’ve never felt this rage before. I’ve never felt like an emotion could completely control my situation. It was the first time I felt reckless.

I walked down the streets between the laughter, the colorful buildings and the sunlight. I have always enjoyed this city! The coffee shops have lots of books and you always have Wi-Fi. I have an apartment in the city center where I can see the tourists enjoying the superficiality of life; buying souvenirs, taking pictures and posting everything they can online. I must say that I’ve always envied people like that. Their ability to live in the moment, but yet somehow they aren’t aware of what’s happening in the world around them. It must be awesome to not care about other people, other cultures, or other continents. Iit must be a good feeling, in a way, not having the burden of feeling like they have to save the world or contribute to it. 

I couldn’t help but notice happy families walking around. I observed children clinging safely to their parents as they walked next to them. 

It reminded me of myself back to my childhood when I was eight years old. I was recently thrown into the street from a foster family. It was sunny and I didn’t know how to get back to the orphanage, so I decided to wander. People were looking at me because they saw my watery eyes. In the fog of it all, I vaguely remember a car almost hitting me, but I didn’t care. After so many hours of nonstop walking, I was famished. It was very warm and I started feeling very dizzy, but then again; I didn’t care. It’s like I wanted to die. I passed out and woke up in my usual bed, surrounded by my usual friends. 

I didn’t speak over the next weeks and I felt like something inside me had died… I think this was the first time I understood that we can die on the inside, and still have a functioning body. During that time, I barely ate and I didn’t feel the need to even look anyone in the eyes. I had my duties; cleaning around like the other kids, taking classes and doing my homework. I kept myself busy by doing more than everyone else. I didn’t want to have time to think about more than the task I was doing. I wanted to tire myself out, so that by the time I would go to sleep, I would be exhausted enough to directly pass out.  

This is the same feeling, but at a different age…

To be continued…

Published by lidiaaviles Copyright © 1987-2087 Lidia Aviles. All rights reserved.

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