Isolation by Samantha Marti

Isolation

by Samantha Marti

Samantha Marti, a senior who just recently discovered a passion for writing. After being strongly suggested to join Mrs. Magliola’s Creative Writing, she found out the honesty that went with writing, that the passion is plentiful, and if she work it enough she do have a shot at it. She hopes those who are experiencing pain, joy, and hardships, have not only the courage but also the vulnerability to pick up a pen, and expel the emotions. This fall, she will be attending Sonoma State and pursuing my new dream to become a creative writing teacher. Along with life and writing, nothing is perfect, but it is true.

Isolation

Walking through the halls, I see those that are alone. They are here, with others, but always alone. They don't smile and hardly make a noise. They sit on the checkered tile with their school work sprawled in the pathway of others and I weave my way around their mess of a maze. These people silently shuffle through their brown paper lunch bags but they have no one to trade their apples with. They eat alone.

*****

I make way towards my car, preparing myself for the ride home. I’d drive the same suburban roads vacillating between school and home, making it a game to conjure up excuses for my lack of involvement. I had lost feeling, the simple joy in life; none of it meant anything to me anymore.

****

The morning was cold; the seasons were starting to change. The wind blew, focusing my direction to the large array of leaves quickly coating the blacktop. The last leaf drifted to the cement, then the slightly damp leaf plastered to the pavement. I slowly bent over in my restricting pea coat and jean and oversized rain boots to pick up the frail, soggy leaf. I lightly held it in my pale, lifeless palm, examining every thin vein and admiring its cracks and let it fall through my fingers.

***

I walk through the halls and see them. The fetal position, offering a sense of safety and belonging. If only they would all link up together and share each other's warmth. I continue walking through the hallway, alone.

**
I have become one of them. Isolating myself from those that love me. I might as well attach to the walls and live vicariously through the others that are alone around me. I halt and reverse, I lean against the hard wall and position my legs into Indian style and open up my brown paper lunch bag to reveal an apple and no one to trade with. Here, I sit alone.

*