Plz no mean comments it is about my life irl also it is not finished but be honest tell me what should I add and stuff.
The waves rolled in a gentle rhythm, mocking the sudden violence in my chest. I held my book tight with my fingernails making tiny indents. “Ding!” I heard a noise and my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. “Urg!” I mumbled. “Must be a scam”, I thought to myself. The vibrating got to me and I snatched my phone out of my pocket with a grunt and held the phone up to my face seeing the bright screen glaring from the hot sun and what I saw was the worst thing life could ever throw at you. What I saw sent a jolt of ice through my veins. The message, in bold, clinical font “SORRY FOR YOUR LOST your–” no. no,no,no! “It can’t be," I yelled, clutching my phone tight in my fist. My heart felt as heavy as a dumbbell. I stood in silence. You could hear a pin drop to the ground and shatter with all the pressure on it. My eyes widened and I dropped my book with a bang. All the pages of the books teared to the sides and bent. Everyone seemed like they were staring at me, eyes on my book and me. My heart was shattered like a puzzle that couldn’t be solved the right way, jagged edges and missing pieces. Me, still frozen in midair, unclutched my phone hearing the words, “let…it…go”. I looked at my phone again and saw the text from the hospital again. The whole park was flooding with more silence, as if they could read my mind. Being heartbroken was like living inside a hollowed out tree, all the warmth and life stripped away, leaving only a shell that echoed only with a chilling wind. I pulled my hoodie on and grabbed the strings forward to hide my sorrows.
The laughter and talking felt too loud, and the sun was just too bright. I walked back to my house, just wanting a grief of silence. I opened my door and ran upstairs to my bedroom. I curdled up in my bed and put my phone down flat on my bed with a thump. I asked myself these questions like: “did I spend enough time with him? Did I care for him enough? In the afterlife will he remember me? Did I visit him enough, why didn’t I visit him enough?” My brain kept going in a loop of guilt and anger. His medicine was still on the table with his passport and papers. His chair, still as cold as a ghost on halloween with soft cushions, weared downed and was empty. I sat in my bed in silence, thinking if I should finish the text and answer. The tears started then, silent and heavy. I covered my eyes while crying as much as a waterfall. I used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe off the extra tears and grabbed my phone off my bed and held it in front of me. I put my covers over me and turned on my phone. The phone glowed in the pitch dark as I read the message over and over repeatedly. “Sorry for your loss, your grandpa has sadly passed away” I did not know how to reply.