superball

at first i didn't really know what it was i was looking for. but i had this feeling, this urge to find it, something!, but what? it was strong, too, the urge i mean. like a powerful, invisible force that came from nowhere and forced me to look. to just look. so i started looking. i began under my bed. i pulled out everything from beneath that rickety, worn-down twin frame, an old pair of tennis shoes, the box for that old pair of tennis shoes which was actually one of those diorama-like constructions i think i remembered making back in the first grade. there was a man, small and brown and made of clay, sitting at a table made of popsicle sticks with a single candle on top and in the corner it looked like there may have been another clay figure, i couldn't tell, only guess by the two, faded oil spots across from the man and the candle. this isn't what i'm looking for though, i thought. i don't know why i thought that. how could i have known! but it didn't feel right, that much was certain. so i kept looking. an old binder filled with baseball cards, a superball, a couple stranded socks. i pulled out everything, but what i was looking for wasn't there. dammit. but i couldn't stop. there was a nudge, a soft, little push, forcing me to continue. keep looking. why? because you have to find it. okay, so i kept trying. i don't know why. i really don't know why...(i really hope to finish this one)