Losing You: prose

November 14, 2014
By RAVINA PATEL
Staff Writer
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.