Losing You: prose

Losing You: prose

November 14, 2014

By RAVINA PATEL
Staff Writer

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(Sterling Chen/The Philadelphia Inquirer/MCT)
You disappeared. I thought you would never come back. I thought I had lost you forever. I was screaming, shouting, and crying your name, hoping for some response. I needed to know that you were okay. I walked barefoot along the dirt pathway. I clambered through bushes. I did not care what happened to me, and I would do everything I could to find you. I ran, though I did not know where I was running. I looked everywhere possible until I had to look toward the impossible. I was almost certain you had not gone further than the cluster of trees, but now I was not certain of anything. I ran as far as I could go. I knew the chances you would be there were slim, but I did not care. I had already looked everywhere else and I needed to find you.
So I kept running, kept crying, kept screaming, and kept hoping that your laugh and your smile would pop up from somewhere, that you would joke about how I worry too much. I kept calling your name but you did not reply. I would stay in this place forever if I had to, but I was going to find you.
I collapsed onto the ground in despair. I missed you, I was worried about you, and I was frustrated at myself for not following you initially. It was my fault that you were gone. If I had gone with you, none of this would have happened. The teenagers who offered to help us find you split up and looked down various pathways.  When they came back looking as distraught as I felt, I began to lose hope. I heard a rustling in the bushes near us, but I disregarded the sound. I did not want to get my hopes up if it was only an animal making noise. However, the rustling continued, prompting me to look up at the familiar figure approaching us.
As soon as I realized it was you, I was unsure whether to laugh or cry–so I did both. I hugged you and cried into your shoulder until I ran out of tears. I could not believe we had actually found you. I still fear what would have happened if we had not. I am still trying to convince myself that the whole ordeal was not real. A piece of me died the moment you went missing, and I am still trying to revive it. Please do not ever leave me again.