I quietly observed the light flowers gently swaying in the wind, noticing the small particles slowly flying off. It was just about the time for these flowers to bloom, so I grabbed my sketchbook, ready to draw them. The sky lit up with a gentle yellow as the particles rose, making the once depressing, cloudy day into a beautiful experience. The particles almost seemed to dance around, like a ballroom full of people. It reminded me of a simpler time, when the world made sense to me. The freedom of not having to worry about the next day, feeling like I was dancing as well. When the particles eventually landed on the ground and faded away, there was a small glowing circle in its place, indicating a new flower would grow there. Seeing this beautiful display of nature, I quietly sketched, maintaining a decent pace in order to capture all the detail, eventually finishing the sketch as the last particle had sunken its way into the ground, marking the end of the blooming of the light flowers. I sat for a couple of minutes admiring my sketch before putting it in my bag and walking back home, hoping to see another patch of these flowers on the way to the train station just a mile away. 
I walked down the dirt path, with no thoughts going through my mind as I mindlessly fiddled with the strap of my bag. The silence was almost deafening, with the only sounds I could hear being the quiet crunch as I stepped on the dirt. Partway through my walk, I saw many old homes which had succumbed to years of neglect, making them unlivable. I remembered playing by those houses, visiting friends, spending Christmas with the neighbors when the power in our home went out. To see them in such a horrid state gave me a slight sinking feeling in my chest. I walked by the old school I used to go to and stopped. The school was in the same condition as the homes. Paint peeled off, rust on the old swings, windows being broken, something you couldn’t ever imagine children being in, let alone learning. Spray painted designs littered the outer walls of the school, some being genuinely good artwork, and some being awful messages. I saw etchings of initials on the tree by the field where all the kids would play and located my initials. It was next to another set of initials, surrounded by a heart. I felt...upset by this slightly. I had no idea why, like how you sometimes tear up and can’t explain it. I placed my hand on the tree and stood there for a second before gently patting it and leaving, not wanting it to get too dark before I arrived home. 
The train ride back home was nothing to note. It was the same as ever, albeit a little more crowded than usual, as the time people often traveled for vacation had come around. When I got home, I noticed a letter on the ground. It was from my sister, who said she was going to be in the area soon on a business trip and wanted to catch up. I tossed it in the trash, not wanting to respond and opened the door. My home wasn’t too big, having the essentials for 1-2 people to comfortably live, even though the current state it was in would indicate the opposite. Every room was an absolute mess, with cans and bottles strewn about the floor, dirty dishes stacked high like skyscrapers, and old self-care products scattered among a dresser. When I tried walking back to my bedroom, I knocked over a stack of dishes, shattering them. I groaned in annoyance, knowing that I’d have to clean them up, but as I was picking up some of the broken shards, I saw that one of them had bounced its way into a room I hadn’t been in for quite a while. 
The door to it was slightly open, allowing only a little bit of light to peek through. As I opened the door fully and walked in, the room had a weird smell to it, like when you open an old book, and you can tell just how old it is by the aroma it produces. Inside the room was a table, which had a digital drawing tablet on top of it covered in dust along with an old computer. Letters upon letters were scattered on the floor, many of them being overdue hospital bills. The walls were covered in papers containing artwork of characters, environments, and concepts, each one more intricate than the last. As I approached the table, I saw a picture frame containing a photograph of someone. It was a woman with dark hair, and they were laying in a hospital bed smiling at the camera like they had just won the lottery. I gently picked it up and wiped off the dust on the frame. I hadn’t realized it, but a smile had formed on my face as tears started forming in my eyes. I gently placed it back down, and sat in the old office chair, wiping the tears off my face. 
When I sat down, it felt nostalgic in a way, like how you feel when you see an old friend after a long time of not talking to each other. I turned on the computer and saw an old draft for a letter on my desktop. When I opened it and read it, my expression turned sad. The letter was a goodbye letter, and how I couldn’t be there for when the person passed away, but I hoped the letter would reach them in time. I tried to ignore my sadness, but I couldn’t hold it in, and quietly sobbed to myself.  
I hugged the picture frame tightly, finding a lot of comfort in it. After about 40 minutes, I had calmed down enough to where I could think straight. I thought about my life and where it had gone, and how it went this way. How had I gone from someone who was a hard worker filled with joy, to a lonely man who hides from his own guilt? Someone who’s scared. Scared to move on, scared of change, scared of themself. I thought back to a memory of my mom whenever I refused to change, especially when we had to move to the big city when I was a teenager. She would tell me, “If flowers cease to bloom, they never grow. Bloom into life head on, ready to take on the world every step of the way.” 
Suddenly, I heard a knock at the door. I wondered who it was, since normally I didn’t invite anyone over, and when I opened the door, it was my sister! She had booked her hotel too early, so she had to be in the area earlier than expected. She had a big goofy smile on her face as she gave me a big hug. When she asked if she could come inside so we could catch up, I warned her that it was a mess, but she only laughed and said she’d help me clean up. 
We talked a bit about how our lives were going over tea, and once we finished, she helped clean up a bit. It was nice, especially after not seeing her for what was probably years. We joked around about our childhood, and my sister even said how she’d want to visit again on her own time so I could see her kids, two boys around the same age as each other. 
After we had cleaned up for a bit, it was visibly dark outside. My sister was about to leave to go sleep at her hotel, but I stopped her. I asked if she could accompany me somewhere, somewhere I’d only feel comfortable going to if she was with me. She agreed, curious about where I was referring to, and we took the train, with it being not as crowded due to it being late. When we arrived at our stop, it was a cemetery. My sister initially teased me a bit, thinking I feared ghosts, but I kept walking, telling her that I was scared, but of something much more real, and that I wanted to face it. The cemetery was cold and silent, with the only semblance of life there being the families mourning the loss of their loved ones. We kept walking until we reached a grave marked Emily. I quietly crouched beside it and pulled my sketch book out of my bag. I tore out two pages of it and placed them by the grave, before placing my hand on it and staying silent, my eyes closed shut. After a couple minutes, I quietly put everything away and asked that we go back now. My sister quietly nodded, looking back at the grave before walking back with me, gently patting my back...