Looking for Alibrandi Short Story
A Letter of Hope.
As John sat in the bustling coffee shop and gazed at the blank paper in front of him, beads of sweat broke across his forehead and trickled slowly down his face. How was he meant to write down what he was feeling when he couldn’t explain it? He knew his emotions were in there somewhere but he just couldn’t reach them. They were locked tight, stuffed somewhere deep down. He was comfortably numb and that was something that terrified him. It was as if the numbness was pulling him into a black hole. He was trapped, unable to get out. His thoughts were jumbled and out of sync. He couldn’t tell if what he was feeling was real. Was he capable of feeling emotions anymore? It was as if John was a ghost. Doing what he had to do to get through the day. Doing what he could to make his father proud. That wasn’t living in his opinion. It was merely existing. His hands started to tremble. Looking up at Josie he studied her. She had a look of pure concentration on her face as she wrote everything down. He couldn’t help but envy her. Sure her life wasn’t perfect but it was a hell of a lot better than his. She could choose her own career without being screamed at for hours on end. She could get one bad grade without being told she was a failure. She didn’t have to be perfect, and she was beginning to slowly understand that. That was something John would kill for. Even his best wasn’t enough. John had tried his best to please his father; he studied harder than anyone else he knew. He’d sacrificed so much to try and make his father proud, but nothing was ever good enough. John closed his eyes and leaned his head back thinking of all the times he was put down by his father. Pain welled up from deep inside him.
He thought of the times he was told he was hated or not good enough just because he’d been beaten in a math competition. He thought of the times he had come home to his father opening his mail then calling him worthless when the results weren’t up to
As John sat in the bustling coffee shop and gazed at the blank paper in front of him, beads of sweat broke across his forehead and trickled slowly down his face. How was he meant to write down what he was feeling when he couldn’t explain it? He knew his emotions were in there somewhere but he just couldn’t reach them. They were locked tight, stuffed somewhere deep down. He was comfortably numb and that was something that terrified him. It was as if the numbness was pulling him into a black hole. He was trapped, unable to get out. His thoughts were jumbled and out of sync. He couldn’t tell if what he was feeling was real. Was he capable of feeling emotions anymore? It was as if John was a ghost. Doing what he had to do to get through the day. Doing what he could to make his father proud. That wasn’t living in his opinion. It was merely existing. His hands started to tremble. Looking up at Josie he studied her. She had a look of pure concentration on her face as she wrote everything down. He couldn’t help but envy her. Sure her life wasn’t perfect but it was a hell of a lot better than his. She could choose her own career without being screamed at for hours on end. She could get one bad grade without being told she was a failure. She didn’t have to be perfect, and she was beginning to slowly understand that. That was something John would kill for. Even his best wasn’t enough. John had tried his best to please his father; he studied harder than anyone else he knew. He’d sacrificed so much to try and make his father proud, but nothing was ever good enough. John closed his eyes and leaned his head back thinking of all the times he was put down by his father. Pain welled up from deep inside him.
He thought of the times he was told he was hated or not good enough just because he’d been beaten in a math competition. He thought of the times he had come home to his father opening his mail then calling him worthless when the results weren’t up to