Fragments of my Life, a misc. books fanfic

Fragments of Life

Note: don't try to make sense out of it, because there is none. This is a girl telling about her life and feelings. You'll see right into her thought for just a split second. I've written this in some spare minutes between two classes. Also keep in mind I'm not a native English speaker, therefore I apologize for any spell- or grammar mistakes in advance.

When I open my eyes I see a light. It's blinding me. When I close my eyes all I see is darkness. It's taking a hold of me, pulling me into its endless depth. It scares me. In the flickering light I look around I am sitting in a field of grass. As far as my eyes reach I see this green flora decorated with strongly coloured blooms. No trees. No water. Above me is the ever blue sky. There's no cloud to be seen. Everything seems so peaceful. But it is a sense of peace that scares me. No matter how much I strain my ears, I can't hear more than the wind playing with grass. However I am surrounded by living beings, there is no life. Blinded by the light I feel how the chains of darkness take grip of me again. They are pulling me deeper and deeper into this place of nothingness, until all light is gone.

In the blinding sun a tear walks over my cheek and I notice I am nothing more than a piece of loneliness.

It's so hot. Softly my hand touches my cheek. My whole body feels like it is burning. Even my forehead tells me there's something wrong. In the back of my head I wonder if my hand isn't just cold, but it doesn't get through. Something hits my head, but I feel nothing more than a numb echo of a big blast. Around me people are yelling, but I see nothing more than the orange of the burning sun

Maybe I should eat my breakfast tomorrow…

I can't remember how I met her. I can't remember how I knew her. She just was there with her tender hands, touching me softly, taking care of me. When I was with her, I always seemed the most important thing in the world, even though so many things deserved more attention. She was the one to keep me going, pushing me in the back when I was tired and lending me a hand whenever I needed. She was my reason to live, she was my mother.

Surrounded by plain white walls covered with paintings and photos. Tables, chairs and a TV. Everything reminded me of the average living room nowadays. But that huge bed in front of me seemed out of place. Even though probably the most important person to me laid down there. She was the one who gave birth to me and she was the one who seemed dead. She wasn't dead yet, she was still living and I was told everything would become as before.

Still I felt guilty. The woman who had been taking care of me until now when I needed her, I couldn't help her now she needed me the most. I was small, I was powerless, the only thing I could do was silently watch her fight and hide my tears. She didn't have to fight for me as well.

The bed is gone now, but the things aren't back to normal. Now I watch a woman in a wheelchair. She is still fighting, fighting to live. I still hide my tears, those tears that will become my dead.