PROLOUGE
Who wouldve thought?! The world has changed so much. No one can comprehend in his deepest imagination how it looks today; black, dark with the sky of deep haze from pollution. I remember the days when the sky was so blue and the sun shone so bright. The grass was the darkest green that anyone could love. Animals of all sorts would run around like there was no tomorrow. I remember those days. But now, deep browns cover everything. The skies are sad. There isnt anyone around with a smile. All the people wander the streets in suits and dark clothing. The world has become a place of greed. Everything that a person needs is given away to those that dont need it. The richer get richer and the poorer become poorer. Then theres me, stuck in the middle of this dark world not knowing where I fit in. The small areas Ive learned to love are as dark as ever and I cry every time I think about them. I cant believe the world could change so much. All the colors of happiness drain from our hopeless hearts. Depression thrives on our unable bodies. This harshly may be abstruse, but for most of my life Ive wanted it back to the way it once was.
This world is where I live; where I learn. Theres no love around me. Only that deep, dark hate. I lock myself up not knowing how I am going to free myself. I try to lift my spirits with music but the artists themselves are just as dark. I gaze out my window at the dead trees that landscape our yards. They once had the most unbelievable leaves. As I see my neighbor leave his house he wears a permanent frown. Everyone looks like this. They walk around like they just cant find their way. But I know, deep inside everyone, there is a locked up cloud of faith and happiness. My mission is to let this out.
1:
As the acid rain falls, tears come to my eyes. I cant help myself. Im just so tired of how Im treated! I wish the love would come back.
I look down at my dull clothes and think, What have I become? Im turning into them. All my life Ive tried to avoid the fact that I live in a world of hatred. Where the music talks of swallowing things and the peaceful rain becomes raging storms instantly.
My family is a bunch of workaholics. Office jobs run their lives. I cant even imagine what it would be like to sit in a box and type on a computer all day. Papers are being wasted on little messages that can be delivered by voice. Helpless trees die for these incompetent people.
My siblings go to school in these gigantic, dark, brick buildings. They feel as thought theyre obligated and not there for a purpose. I suppose they dont realize the things theyre being taught. The hate crimes flow through their minds as a skill rather than a lesson. I pull myself away from this mentality. I dont believe that I am one of them.
As I bring to mind these things, my throat gets so dry I cant breathe. Inside, my heart cries for help, but I know that theres no one out there that can help. They all live for this feeling; this hollow, hard feeling.
I want to scream for water but when I open my mouth nothing comes out, just a dry rasp that cries for help. But like I said no one can help.
As the day progresses, I just see many more dark, shallow people. They head for their homes where they have nothing better to do but sit on their leather furniture and read reference textbooks. For dinner they eat simple steak and potato meals every night.
I hate this way of life. My family is the same as these people. All I want is a rainbow to appear or the wind to blow spontaneously right in front of me. Ive never even experienced a shooting star. They just hang there in the sky, reflecting light al the time. They say that the moon smiles down on us, but all I see is a brown ball of nothingness.
In the mornings, I wake at six. The alarm that buzzes is a monotonic G. Its sad to say that there isnt even change to my mornings.
When I finally get my hands on that simple sweet taste of chocolate, all I can think is if Im betraying my people, or am I just being me. I want to love it and let it soothe my throat, but a tear comes to my eye. I just cant enjoy it. Ive grown up with that darkness and emptiness, and now all chocolate stands for is that wanted happiness that no one can achieve.
As I peer around my room, I see brown tinted walls and a black box of a dresser. My bed is box springs and a mattress on a black box frame. The only thing on my walls is a simple clock that ticks time away. The shades on my windows are always shut. I cant bring myself to open them and see the horrid world out there.
Why do I have to live like this? Who says that everyone has to be so blank and empty?
2:
Three simple steps up into the large, brown brick building. This is where I supposedly learn.
I walk down the hall in the wrong direction. Every face is blank and will never sprout explanation.
When I reach my brown locker, I open it and see my black, tattered textbooks. Everything inside of them is a lie. Why do they have to drill this stuff into the minds of our worlds hope?
I find my classroom carefully. I dont want to be trampled by the shallow people around me. I plop myself into the wooden desk. Upon the blackboard is the list of lies that are going to be said in the next hour.
The day continues on like this. I listen to the gibberish that flows out of each professors mouth. The whole time I gaze out at my sad little world. I do as the class is doing. If they open to a certain page of the textbooks, I open to that page. Its just I block the lies that are trying to drill into my helpless skull.
The people I think are my friends, are just like the rest. They dont understand where Im coming from.
Obviously my mission has to start with the children. They are the only ones that dont automatically comprehend the horror that exists. But how, I ponder, am I to help these people?
I look down at my cream-colored paper and see that my notes begin on government and then flowingly change to plans. These plans are of me in every place the children are; hospitals, orphanages, and homes worldwide.
If I can get one to turn, then we, as a team, can start to change the world. If only that one can understand my bright, hopeful ways instead of the dark, depressing ways that exist. If only.
A smirk begins to appear on my pale face. I slowly comprehend why Ive been placed here on this retched earth. Why Ive had to suffer all these years.
Suddenly, Im snapped out of my gaze. The bell to go home has rung.
I stand up out of my desk and wander slowly into the dark hall. Everyone has the same expression that they did at the start of the day. That tired, dark empty look. To me they seem like zombies that cant burst out of the traps theyre in. Simply, their feelings and that cloud of faith and happiness is being consumed by the darkness.
I wonder if I ever looked that way. With the ugly dark uniform and my hair all pinned up in a tight bun. Was I ever so sadistic? I mean, who in their right mind would want to be so clouded and depressing? I look at the people up and down and think what could be going through their minds. To them, do I appear as an outcast; with my out-going spirit raising above all their harsh minds?
Once again, this whole site saddens me. My smirk towards my overwhelming plan instantly becomes a frown. I stop right in the middle of the path and close my bloodshot eyes hoping itll all disappear. When I reopen them, everything is still there with its diabolic plan to attack me.
I dont let this drag me down. I keep pressing towards my goal to change the world.
3:
As the color of my eyes change, my mind stays the same. I hear the footsteps of my hopeless parents creep upstairs. They soon will be fast asleep in that dark dream world where nothing happens.
At night I dream. Colorful, happy thoughts flow through my head. But there are those few nights when I cant hold back and the darkness gets inside me. In these dreams I scream and try desperately to wake myself, but it does no good. In the morning after these frightening episodes, I awake with a single tear draining from my droopy blue eyes.
An itch begins to overwhelm me. It feels as though a thousand lonely spiders are crawling all over my skin. My thin fingers search frantically for the source of the itch but all they find is cold, damp skin still covering my shaking bones.
Where is this coming from? Why do they choose me?
I jump out of bed and run to the sink where the tiles under my feet send a chill up my spine. I turn the porcelain knobs until the water is perfectly warm. My hands and face are the first to encounter the reality and be splashed with water.
Once my whole body has decided to awake, I wander down to the dark kitchen where everyone is. Cold, black coffee sits on the counter along with burnt toast and runny eggs. Breakfast is served.
I force this food down my throat as my father reads every word in the newspaper and my mother opens a weekly business magazine. My siblings have finished and are slowly ambling up the stairs to put on their uniforms for school.
I scare myself out of this gaze everyone is in by kicking the table. I know this may sound pathetic but it is the only way my thoughts are put back in line.
I stand from our dark mahogany table and wander up the cold, wooden stairs. Once I reach my room, all I think about is how I wish we students could wear something different each day. Why must we be so routine?
The next thing I notice is how incredibly different my morning has been. I never wake in a cold sweat because of a horrible dream or my exasperating itch that took over my body. Those are extremely new to me. For breakfast Im usually gulping down a bowl of cold cereal instead of that plate of black toast and yellow eggs and that cold cup of coffee. The only things slightly normal are my depressing family members.
Still puzzled by these thoughts, I slip my legs into my plaid skirt. Then I squeeze into the navy and black sweater that is being drilled into our minds as a uniform. To me its just the dark symbolism that the dean has the ability to show. Thats just pure incompetence on his part.
I know all you can notice are the harsh words flowing out of my mouth, but that is the only way I can show how my world looks.
This morning only brings out my one fear. I fear that one of these times Im going to be solemnly sitting and a dark human being will sneak up on me. Every time that Im alone I watch my back literally because of this cold feeling.
I leave my dark house and neighborhood to those who devour it during the daytime. Im obligated to attend the horrid brick buildings called schools.
I only wish to get rid of this ambivalence that follows me around; because of this my plan stays in the deep areas of my lonely heart. I dont want ambivalence!
4:
At school, Im being tested. All they want to know is where our IQ sits at. Its obvious that all the people around me are pathetically the same. They strike me as boring learners. The people take in all those lies and believe them. It only makes me wonder if they were told the world is flat, maybe theyd believe it!
I cant imagine my mind being set to such stupidity. There has to be someone out there like me. A person that feels hopes instead of this sad, hopeless darkness that surrounds me everyday.
I have to move. These chairs just dont bring me to life anymore. They put me to sleep, deep in that harsh unknown. I have to get away. These tall, brick buildings smother my mind and that box of a house makes me entirely too Closter phobic. I cant survive anymore. My fear of falling in this small town has become way to strong.
With my mind totally set, I leave school at lunch. As I run home, my feet begin to hurt. I can just feel the sharp blisters forming as my feet rub against these brown penny loafers. Why do I have to wear these things?
On that thought, I strip them off. Id rather be running barefoot through the weeds and glass, than wear these ugly shoes that are full of pain.
Im heading down my street where it seems like there is no end to the darkness. My eyes begin to water both from the pain I feel inside and the wind drying them out. I can see my gray house approaching. All I can do is ask myself what Im doing this for?
Despite my demeaning thought, I keep trudging toward my house pulling out my cold key that sits in my book bag. Its ridges are well defined and seek madness totally beyond the door it unlocks.
No one is home, making it even easier for me to get away. Theres no dark, hopeless thing there to try and pull me to the other side.
I walk into my room and my head begins to ache immediately. Why this pain? This is where Ive suffered my whole life. Nothing has had the strength to hurt me.
All I feel is this dark, sad spirit passing through my body. Im free. The dark part of me Ive left behind with the rest of my tortured world. All I feel is hope and happiness now.
Flying through the door of my house, I turn around and whisper I love you to all that Im leaving behind.
Even though my parents were like the rest of them, I cant help but already miss them.
Then, right there on the sidewalk of gray cement, I realized I never hated anyone. I just disliked who they were. Hate was too harsh; I cant have that living inside me. SO, Ive now decided I just dislike all these people who made my life a living hell.
5:
My first night away turned out to be entirely harder than I thought. The major atrocity that occurred was the incredibly chilling wind! This was no normal breeze that just froze the surface; it attacked a person fully until even your bones chattered. The cause of this wind originated from an enormous wall-cloud that rose higher than Zeus mountain.
I couldnt help but stare at this cloud. I knew that trouble was brewing inside of it. The lightning stung my heart even though it never came from the ground I was upon. It lit the night sky like a childs nightlight lights his room.
Even more thrilling, was the thunder that rumbled through my ears. The storm may have been 10 miles away, but it still affected me fully.
With this storm raging above, I couldnt sleep a wink. The ground was as cold as the nights in Antarctica. Nothing could affect me more.
Many times I pondered about running home to that dry, desolate life; but I just couldnt abandon the world like that. I am on a mission and cannot let those faithful few down. They all probably believe theyre the only ones who care, but I must make it obvious that theyre not alone in this pathetically sad world.
Most of these people that surround me are extensively lost and only follow those false accusations that are drilled into their fallen minds. Sadly, they become so gullible that they must do what others do. It all becomes a forgotten game of monkey-see-monkey-do.
Throughout the night, I began to think up the ways Ive been different from the typical person. For one, I always seemed to be the rebellion in the classroom. I never listened because I didnt choose to believe what they were telling me.
Even with my rebellious nature, I still needed the extra people to help fortify my good world. Me, one out of billions, is not going to establish the sort of message that needs to be forced into everyones minds. The best odds that would be in my favor would be enforced by one of my side per every thousand demonic persons.
I know my words are still extremely harsh, but itll only injure those who cannot accept the truth. Sadly, these thoughts are overwhelming me into a deep trance of hatred mixed with confusion. What am I going to do to extinguish this demon hate that embodies so many?
Upon that thought, I experienced a sudden, small spurt of REM. This feeling helped to make my mind sink even deeper into the future actions Im going to encounter.
For the next small, inconsistent minutes, I stared straight up at the rumbling sky. Then the next thing I knew, a ray of sunlight struck my pale face, and it was morning.
6:
The sun still shone much duller than I had ever remembered, but it was a relief. I wasnt going to be able to stand the darkness any longer. At points, it frightened me so much that I could barely breathe let alone move normally.
Back at home; I could imagine my family searching for me with a blank look upon their faces. They had no emotion for what had happened; yet they posted signs around my sad town! Who would read them? would be the only question surfacing among them and even I pondered that. My friends may glance at them but only because of a familiar face that appeared in the center. The teachers would know the name from the grade book but otherwise wouldnt acknowledge it. Everyone else still wouldnt have the slightest clue.
This sad day had a promising sense to it though. For some odd reason I knew that I could make progress towards my goal of freeing this world of anger and sadness.
After seemingly becoming homeless, I dug through the trash to find some food and then I set out on the road. The first step that I took on the highway sent a jolt of pain mixed with surprise up my spine. For the next few miles this would become my favorite feeling.
Around what felt like three long, boring miles, I decided to stop and try to hitch a ride with a keen trucker that would give me respect. The first one that drove by had a sincerely scary look to him. His semi was brown with cloudy chrome features that stuck out like the dull sun that shone above. The second drove by with a plain white truck that didnt advertise anything but the drivers simple name. Finally, when the third semi coasted by I felt that it was an okay one. I extended my slender thumb as though I were going to place it into a blackberry pie. I could hear the tires slowing with a slight growl as it pulled up in front of me. The door swung open and to my surprise there sat a woman. She gave me a grin and asked, Lookin for a ride somewhere?
The only answer I could achieve was a pathetically soft Yes and a slight nod; but the next thing I knew I was sitting in a large seat with a seatbelt slung over my drooping shoulder and I felt as though I were five hundred feet in the air.
For the rest of the day I sat there, facing straight forward. I didnt know where I was headed and when I was going to be there; but I did know one thing, it was going to a wild, spontaneous ride here on out.
I dozed off a couple of times but was awakened by either the down-shifting or the woman honking her horn for some little kids in a giant yellow bus that thought it was something special. The woman did offer me some food or anything that I needed but I just denied it all because I was too paranoid to eat.
I only wished that Id had the courage to ask her where we were heading but I didnt want to take chances.
The day flew by and the night fell. My eyes became droopy and tired as we pulled to a stop to sleep for the night in a well-lit truck stop. As I drifted away, I wonder what tomorrow is going to bring.
7:
A cold, clammy palm nudged me softly on the top of my shoulder. I unglued my eyes open to a soft-spoken husky woman that was the driver of the semi I was traveling in.
The morning had come along with a rumbling that resonated in my stomach. This noise started off the days conversation.
Would you like something to fulfill that rumblin tummy of yours? asked the woman of whom I still didnt know the name. After asking that question, she peered down at me with a look of hope that I would accept her offer.
A grin appeared, Sure, that would be great, flowed out of my dry mouth.
When we stepped into the lobby of the truck stop, a stench of gasoline and grease overtook my nostrils. With a point from the woman, I strode over to the food isles where I choose a banana nut muffin loaf from the bottom shelf. Next I headed for the refrigerators where I pulled down a small Aquafina to quench my thirst.
In times like these, there isnt much that can satisfy me. I rely on the bare minimum that I honestly need. In my mind, the thought that floats around is of how much many more people need rather than me. I welcome the fact that all I need is that muffin and a bit of water.
To surface my mind, I peered at a large sign giving the name and mileage of the next town. It said in bold letters: DENVER 25. I honestly didnt know how I was to react to the fact that I was only beginning the journey and it started me out here.
Id heard so many stories from around here, and felt so much pain. I knew that in this area a little girl was killed for absolutely no apparent reason other than that she was beautiful. Also, in this area, people like me sent innocent students to their end; but only when they realized themselves they were frightened and couldnt handle it. Thats where the guns and hardship came into play.
Down, in the gut of me, I was petrified because I had no idea where to go or what to do! I shook until that kind woman awakened me. I hadnt the courage to wake myself. At this point, dreaming was my scapegoat. But I had to press on.
8:
As the husky woman and I continued down the road to Denver, I had to wipe tears away from my eyes all too often. In my peripheral vision, I saw some cold, but caring looks cast at me. I , honestly, didnt know what to say, let alone think. In my mind, I was casting the play of farewell, and hope snuck in as often as possible. At that point, it was only harder to say, continue. Then and only then did that word become my handcuffs to life.
As I fluttered into the life of the mainstream city, I saw too many that had potential. The sad thing is, most of them stared straight ahead. About one in every hundred would break that stare though, and glance at me. The key word there is glance, sadly. They only glanced. Not look; not stare; not even gesture; just glance.
But the twinkle in their eye was just as penetrating. I knew that there was something there that led me here.
A screeching halt stung my ears. I looked toward the woman seeking approval. She nodded as though to say, Yes, youre welcome. I then leapt out of the truck. As she drove away, I read in turquoise lettering: MARY~AS FRIENDLY AS THEY COME. That she was, a friend. Regardless if she heard it from my mouth, she knew what she did for me was so very helpful.
To proceed on, I turned in the direction Id come from because Id already seen the hopeful ones. Plus, I was a bit frightened at the moment. The last thing I wanted to do was go against my gut and end up on the news like the murders Id already pondered about.
At this point, I was nothing but aghast. I didnt know what was ahead, but I wasnt going to back down. Those people I saw were there for me. That twinkle created a star that wasnt going to burn out soon, and I was there to help the fire stay much, much longer.
The street was very dank and rancid. It smelled of sewage and dust. Towering high above were buildings of dark, shallow people that worked in those cubicles. Im not amazed that the glass is tinted to the extent its a mirror on the outside, because they cant bring themselves to showing the world all the horrid things they are capable of. All I can do is sigh and press on though.
A few blocks down I saw a crowd of people. As I made my way in their direction, I was suddenly drawn to their exact area. It was as if I were on chain that kept getting shorter and shorter, but I wasnt strong enough to fight it off.
