●Fossick

                                    

                                          

~Emerald~
                          
fossick /●v. rummage; search
                          
We look for answers all throughout our lives. Every situation poses an intriguing question.
                          
But sometimes, we forget to fossick for our inner, true self. Lost in the commotion of what others expect of us, we fail to recognize our own desires.
                          
More often than not, we miss out on the real joy of life-- to be ourselves.
                          

~Kaylen~
                          
I lay in bed at two o'clock, staring up at the ceiling with my hands tucked under my head.
                          
All there had been going through my mind was the events of that night, over and over again, since the past hour and a half. Somehow, I couldn't brush aside the joy that came with being with that kid, the ecstacy of having Mr. Blake against me, the longing of having both of that again.
                          
My life had been so gloomy these days that even little things like those were keeping me awake at nights. And I was afraid.
                          
The last time I had spent the nights with my eyes open, I had been insomniac. I was sixteen. It wasn't severe. But it was there enough to terrify me. I hadn't told any of my fathers about it, I kept it to myself, thinking it'll pass and I would be fine in no time. But two weeks into not sleeping at all and heavy bags hanging from under my eyes, I finally whispered it to dad. 
                          
Dad was freaking out with worry as soon as I used the word 'insomnia' and started fussing over how I didn't tell him sooner and that we needed to see a doctor. I gave him a big 'no' and asked him not to bring that up again. So defeated, he came into my room at night and made me lay down on the bed with my head in his lap.
                          
Now, I was an introvert who wasn't really open about affection so it came off as a little awkward to me. But I let him do what he was planning to.
                          
'Tell me about your day,' he had said to me. 
                          
I started with short sentences, telling him how the school day had gone, how I argued with my best friend, Jake, how I didn't like the food in the canteen. 
                          
Then he began asking me about details. Questions after questions after questions, till he was quiet and I was ranting about how I was the only one who had been sitting on my table of the cafeteria since the past few weeks, how Jake had betrayed me by sleeping with the guy I had a crush on and how tensed I overall was because I thought nothing was going right in my life.
                          
The answers I was fossicking for, he had plucked them from nowhere but my own within.
                          
When I was out of words and the tears started to spill out, he held me there, running his fingers through my hair soothingly till I vented it all out. Once I was quiet and utterly utterly tired, he began singing me a lullaby. The way he had sung it with such love and care, I had felt like my world was alright and it had become my favourite song before sleep overtook me that night.
                          
Ever since that night, whenever I had trouble closing my eyes, I always told dad about it and he sung me the same thing till I fell asleep.
                          
But tonight, it seemed like I wanted to stay awake. I wanted to think of those things that had stolen my sleep. I wanted to think of Mr. Blake.