Personal Narrative: Oxygen

The. Last. One.

Oxygen. That's all I need. Right now. In this moment. My body spazzes upward as blood flows to my head, like warm water soaking my face. The only thing I can think of, the only thing I remember how to do is breathe. I inhale and exhale, finding sanity in the only thing around me that I can control. My mind should be racing, heart pounding, thoughts flowing, but all I feel is stillness. All I feel is an empty space, and a lonely heart. All I know is nothing. Nothing is all I know, all I feel, all I see, all I hear. As I gain my bearings, my eyes adjust to the horror that lies before me. The inescapable loneliness that begins to overwhelm me. Bodies. Men, women, girls and boys are all I see.

Just keep your eyes up. Don't look down. Don't look around Just look forward. I repeat this in my head many times until it is cemented in my brain like a . . . . What is it called? I can't grasp the name. My memories are like fog, I try to reach out. Grasp it. Grasp something, but nothing is there. There is one thing I remember, Julie. I think that word belongs to me, it is mine. I keep walking, walking, walking. Something catches my eye, my mind tells me to keep looking forward, but my body disagrees. I tilt my head ever so slightly. I see something, colorful, like the color the sky should be. It kills me not to know the name. I carefully pick my way to the object on the ground beside my feet. Dirty, ripped, I kneel down to touch it . . . soft, smushy. I gaze at it . . . animal . . . color. The body beside it, mine. My family, my… brother. That is the word, I remember. William is his, Julie is

Then it pours down my face, wetting my shirt, soaking my soul, drenching my heart. Tears, I remember these. I think of sadness, loneliness, I think of me. I gasp for air, sobbing, deep breaths, more sobbing, choking. Choking on my sadness. I can't bear it any longer. My stomach spasms as the salty water flows from deep within my heart. Something else catches my eye, small, another color, in the distance. Now I am beside it. It grows from the ground. Something almost like… wings sprout from the center. Flower. It feels good on my tongue. I say it out loud. Flower. Flower flows from my mouth, a comforting, sweet sound is produced. It feels delicate. I pull it from the ground. This action reminds me of something that happened to me. Something about home, family, tragedy. I place it delicately in my hair as a feeling of… hope pops into my mind, a four-lettered, blurred word. It overwhelms me, shocks me, empowers me and then is shattered. The flower falls from my hair the tiny wings fall to the ground, spread apart and lost