Bench

Walking halfway, there is this bench from school. This wooden bench in which randoms strangers sit and wait. Mounted on the ground, it is standing to hold every person's weight.

The description is already insignificant. It is just describing a wooden old bench beside a statue symbolizing what the school is about.

It is funny for once I remembered that old bench. It is the spot wherein I write my own thoughts during a class. It is the spot wherein I write my own whereabouts, as I sit and admire the leaves falling.

It is also ironic for it is the spot wherein I break down and cry. The location where I just burst into tears, and people were shocked why I break down.

That moment, the day in which people expect me to be joyous and happy, is also the day that I was grey, problematic and lonely. Even though it pains me to say it, I find that day dark.

In that bench, is also the moment wherein I never expected somebody to listen to my own problems. Though I find it pretty embarrassing for a stranger to hear my weaknesses, I find it enticing for once to be broken and vulnerable.

However, dark moments in life are also the days in which I find people who really care. There is also one person who somehow his hand once lift me up, for he offered it. I pushed myself to be okay, that everything will be alright, and that moment is the one that made me realize that it is. I never tell the reason why I was tearing that day to him, but I have never expected for that being to come through.

No wonder that bench is something special to me for it somehow, recognizes my own feelings even if I'm just a complete stranger, sitting on it.

When I visit again, that bench is the one I will long forward too.