Life as a Battlefield: A Personal Metaphor

Eman Zaheer Personal Metaphor
The deafening sounds of gun shots filled the air only to be united with the shrilling sound of a scream I couldn’t decipher as my own or another’s. Bullets are shot towards a man I have never known, my ammunition being my only friends to help me through a dark war of death. Fighting for so long, it’s almost impossible a time where I haven’t wanted to wave my white flag, to surrender, and to give up. Yet, through the injuries and the white tears I fight in this war, as I go through my path through life. My life is a war, of lifeless bodies and the triumphant victories. A gun set in my hands and ammo at my side. At war with weapons, my ammo are my friends keeping me alive through seemingly impossible scenarios.

The clock’s ceaseless ticking went on key with the groaning of the fan. The room lit only by a faint light of a window and the glow of a laptop. My head groaned in pain along with the loud hum of the computer. My eyes slowly moved from word to word, studying every crevice in the lines. My hands moved without thought, calculating each problem in every way possible. My hands moved in robotics motions only to be accompanied my gears in my head shifting to thinking about how badly I was going to fail this midterm.
My mind spun into disaster, my brain suffocating me of oxygen and yelling that I was a disappointment. My stomach churned making my throat an acidic wasteland making my voice to vanish into thin air. My eyes stung as hot tears ran down my cheeks, leaving puffs of pink under my eyes. My phone rang a toon known to me as the sound of my friend calling. I slumped out of my chair and dragged my lifeless feet to the table to get my phone. My hand grabbed the phone and answered regardless of my mind’s tricks. There was a second on silence before a cheerful voice spoke on the other