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Ringing Bells (4/30/22)
The elegant sound of those tiny little bells one might purchase for their bike. A variety of colors, a multitude of high-pitched chimes. The special sound one might make for their significant other to return in ringing. The laughing and peddling, the grouping and talking. I cannot explain why those bells have such an impact on me. My parents have always bought my family, but more importantly, one another, a bell to display. Possibly I feel as though a small bell protrudes how I'm loved. How I love, how people love, how I want someone to ring their bell for me. Turn around: ring, ring, ring. Catch my gaze, as your intricate smile rotates and pedals faster. Although you rang your bell for me once, I must flee from the idea that you will ring my bell once again.
While writing this piece, although selfish, I thought about only myself and my problems with my teenage love-life. Although, now that I revise my works, I have been able to find myself writing in other perspectives of teenagers all around the world. Almost everyone experiences heartbreaks, and my families' way of showing affection was through "tiny bells on bikes". I waited for one of my exes to return and "ring my bell", but it never came. I hope that others may relate to my piece, even if their affection came from other sources, like gifts for an apology, or a hug of grief.