|Hot Summers Day submitted 2008.11.19 04:36 PM by Symbolic_ viewed 2200 times|
|This was some crap I wrote for an english paper last year. My apologies if it's not your cup of tea, and all criticism welcome as to how I can improve. Either way, thank you for reading.|
She was a shy girl, scared of not only the world, but also her own back yard. She never understood what it meant to share, or what it meant to think of things in a collective sense of the world. She existed, and that was enough for her. The concept of love puzzled her. It was something that was thrust upon her by various mediums, all screaming and preaching just what love was. The TV told her Love was something anybody could have, and something anybody can give at any moment. It also explained, that love and sex had no correlation. Her two origins, one the donor the other the giver, told her love was something married people shared, and only the same married people should have sex. Thus telling her, sex and love went hand in hand, but only if one achieved the status of being married. Her church told her the same thing, except; it told her that it was divine, and that sex was for the soul purpose of procreating. If done so for pleasure, it was considered waste, and then considered sin.
Her friends had an odd view of the world all together. They expressed Sex was much better than love, and explained how love led to some sort of down fall of the spirit. And inevitably how it would break her. Confused, she locked herself away. Bombarded by similar yet opposing views, she knew not how to react. She watched the sitcoms play out the same scenarios of someone trying to "Get Some". She heard the sermon at church about the power of God, and how one must be abstinent until marriage for it is in his divine plan. She watched her two origins fall in and out of love all the time, and out of and into one another's arms. Then her friends, professing the best comes from the worst and most of vile of humans. So, what was a girl to do? Except stay locked away, until she could decipher fiction from reality. She was a beauty that couldn't be matched by any man made construct. A natural occurrence, like that of Cherry Blossoms in the spring, and still such beasts disguised as men tried to reverse engineer that which they didn't understand. However, all attempts were futile, and yielded incomplete data. She was, in essence, a mystery to the human eye. The enigma thought to have been sent down by a God, to either mock or punish man. And for this reason, she was hated.
She was hated for her beauty because it shone light on the man made lie. She was hated because she didn't buy into any concept of what reality or life was. They would gather round, with their pitchforks and torches, and scream such hideous things. Talking of how she should be ashamed to live, and how she must choose one of their paths, or no path at all. Frightened and scared, she delved deeper into her world, so deep that the rest of the world was on mute. And when the mob dispersed, she there again like she had always been, alone and clueless. "Is this life?" She often thought to herself, wondering why so many people valued such odd things. She wondered why they concerned themselves with her path, and her decisions. And why they were against her idea of happiness. "Is it not my decision on what makes me happy? Why must I subscribe to some prepackaged idea someone else invented? Why can't I just be happy?" And with that she cried, she cried the tears for the world that wouldn't listen. And as innocent cries fell on deaf ears, she prayed to some construct to send her an angel, to send her something to save her from this world. She did so over and over again, until she fell asleep.
When she awoke, she saw a strange man standing at her feet. She looked into his eyes, his eyes that reminded her of a tamed tiger. He spoke no words, and neither did she, but the understanding was mutual. He helped her up, and they both started walking. They weren't sure where they were going, but they decided to forget where they had been.
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