Angels and devils

Rigid lumps slide under my tired fingertips. Concrete columns and steady posts. These walls are the only thing keeping me up right now. the sun seem so distant as I walk in the kingdom of dominating shadow. Shivering from the darkness, a tier slides down crashing on my skin, cold and pitiful. My mind begd for shelter. My conscious is telling me I won't find any.

Each glass window, each dull reflection painfully reminds me what I turned into, slowly, changing with every breath. A wreck of a person, useless ant who doesn't contribute to the hive, a lowlife stumbling down the isolated roads of downtown Britain. The sky breaks, the warm light reaches for me, the unwanted future awaits...

This is where it all begins.

Midday; noisy cluttering shops and thuds of a British Street. The world seems more alive now than at any other time or place. My golden locks bounce uncomfortably on my light blue jacket shoulders. Colliding with one another, sound bouncing from ear to ear and people gliding past one another all thinking only of themselves. strangers all rushing towards one direction and not wasting even one precious second of their busy day.

Mother nature is nowhere to be found,killed by concrete slabs and replaced with revving cars. Skyscrapers became our forests and tall lampposts became are canopy.

I think about what I'm about to do and curse at myself internally for being so stupid.

'dear mum... I don't even know how to start explaining this to you... There is a very good reason why I left, from the bottom of my heart I hope you can forgive me. I wrote this so you can be sure I was ok. Don't try and find me... Love you always katherine'

Every muscle in my body was going against every step I took. Every thought that cramped my mind was about how this could go wrong but it had to be done. If she didn't get a note from me soon she would go mad I'm sure. And so I step on the reddish-brown pavement , determined not to get spotted by any familiar faces.

I make my way slowly towards my street. And look around as I make the curve. All the identical tightly packed houses would make my home unrecognisable to a stranger. Every house had the same white walls, the same white front door, the same amount of dull windows...and yet I could always identify my home from the rest.

Only a few more steps, only a few more dreaded moments separated me from the front door and from the moment in which I would have to, as quietly as possible, leave the note and leave to never come back. It broke me from the inside. I dreaded every moment of it. I knew I was doing the right thing by leaving but leaving was often an easy concept that I found much harder in practice.

This was the home I was raised in, the house that I spent 16 years of my life in. I had left my Mark. Literally in the case of when I was five and painted on the entire kitchen wall. Funny story that is, mum decided to keep it that way, called it art. Looking back on it now I guess it was art to her, the way she would look at it while eating breakfast in the morning or the way she would laugh about it when she was telling the story to her friends. She cared for me more than I would ever truly realise. after all this, after all of her love and affection, here I am I'm gratefully rejecting it...

I had some sort of hope that even this short note I was going to leave would give her some sort of ease. Although I knew it wouldn't help much. She was always protective of all of her children, had to know where they were at all times and how they were feeling. Now she knows nothing and I'm the reason of her distress.

I take those last two steps, the silver door handle in reach. If I pulled on it now I'm sure she's here it and rushed to the door, rush to comfort me for whatever reason or for no reason at all. I had to resist that urge, and it made me weep internally. I gently slid in the small piece of paper through the mail slot having one last glance at my home I turned around and walked away.