Essay

We are all snowflakes. Every snowflake has it's very own special pattern. Wouldn't have MYSELF any other way. Neither should YOU.

Being a Gen Z kid myself, I might be a little biased, but sometimes, bias is good. People -millenials mostly- say that our generation is addicted to our phones, that we can’t be taken away from them.

For the past four days, Nina had been in a circuit. In the mornings, she’d start preparing for work, checking emails while brushing her teeth. She’d do her daily dose of stretches in her pajamas.

The daughter of a renowned priest, the sister of the largest church, with a family of friends, was fact.

I avert my eyes to the carpet beneath my feet and enjoy the moment of quiet. I would have thought it would be rather awkward, but in actuality, it was quite reassuring and comfortable.

The people there were unexpected, they wore face paint, and had very uncanny costumes, then suddenly an ominous silence was followed by the bong of a heavy instrument.

Taking a few steps before and breathing out a warm misted substance, I was in awe when I opened the door to a ballroom-like palace.

Sebastian walks over to me and leisurely takes hold of my hand. Obviously nothing out of the norm, and neither am I a child, but I don’t complain.

The door lets out a soft click as I leaned my back to the wall, taking in the sight of white everywhere, I inhaled deeply, smelling something like mint lingering in the air and exhaled with the same amount of force.

My fingers ache from not moving and the nerve-wrecking aura of this setting, puts me in a state of melancholy.

I knocked softly on his hospital door. I heard nothing, no response. My hand swipes over the knob, and I waver. Though impatience was nipping at my lower neck, I just shuddered.

I'm obviously showing my dependence toward him. I hadn't done that with anyone in a very long time, and it feels utterly wrong of me. Though, consequently doing this, it brings me a peculiar sense of elation.