The Things I’ve Lost


The Things I’ve Lost

By: Ignacio Benito

Ash-black and grey pencil case abandoned somewhere in the corner of ZIS’s third-grade classroom in the blue metal cubbies on my last day of school after an hour worth of tears, left to rot. A chestnut-brown child’s book on the basics of German somewhere in the third room to the right of the third-floor apartment in Bergdietikon. An appetite, after being shown the fractured corpse of a child in a national morgue while studying the human body in third grade, thanks Ms.Koshen for sitting with me while I turned different shades of green. While dwelling on her, I’ve lost a deeply rooted animosity towards mathematics and all entangled fields after a single class on geometry and the weirdness of cubes.

A long sleeve sweater in room 512 of a hotel after a hurried check out after realizing that we had stayed in the wrong part of town in 2015, Alberta. An indulgence in certain friendships after their asserted definition was represented by the lavish amounts of money thrown away within a given time. Childhood innocence, when looking at the crude reality of the life presented to refugees when I realized there are 51 million people without a home, food, and water, dying every day. Ignorance towards just how much alcohol flows through the veins of fifteen-year-olds once a party in Club Union takes place from 21:00-3:00 on school nights and tests the next morning. Respect for those who, when given the option, to choose between a six-pack of Balboa and their child’s notebook would rather drown their pains than craft a future. I lost my childhood to waves of reality like sand washed away by the ocean slowly but surely, year by year.  A grey and blue set of sunglass in Boston after a hurried checkout because the alarm never went off and the plane was still going to leave.

A green science notebook left on the couch of Whistler, Canada after a sleepy morning of packing and an all-nighter finishing a 15 page summative. Faith in that above, I have decided that my world is governed by the laws of physics and chemistry, but we’re all entitled to live our lives with our own beliefs. A DC subway card that caused more anxiety than it was due, worse yet I almost lost my ID card that would have caused copious, continuous stress. The third entry in the Fifth Wave series which now leaves a single, unoccupied gaping abyss in an otherwise jam-packed bookcase. Each and every pen along every single school year because after handing them out they always come back chewed, or not at all. Believing that my grandmother was beyond the effects of Whisky, until new years 2016 when 7 fingers of brown gold on the rocks later, she stumbles onto the dance floor for some “modern” dance accompanied by slurred singing.

I lost, so many things that I will never get back, some lost just because time has gone by and others forced upon me because of the world I inhabit, but so many things I’ve yet to find. Like a good book, you regret it’s over but you’ll always remember the characters, plot, and the countless time spent reading page by page.

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