My name
In the Christian faith my name is pure. In Greek, my name is torture. To my parents, my name had neither of these definitions. By now, however, I can call myself both.
My life is dynamic, parallel to the contrast of purity and torture. Some days I have the purest joy. A feeling when nothing can pull me down. I don’t usually have a reason for the happiness I feel. I’m always aware that these feelings will change, but for now I am happy. I feel that it is pure. I know that it is wrong.
Other days I can’t stand being inside my own body. Living is torture. People are irritating. Sometimes my heart is racing, and I can’t breathe. Other times I feel sick, as if my body is giving me an excuse to stay home and rest. Most days I fight past it, contrasting to every thought in my head. Similar to the good days, I usually don’t have a reason for the misery I feel. I feel that it is torture. I know that it is wrong.
The difference is sharp and dull. I could go in between purity and torture in matter of minutes, or over the course of a day. There is never anything that triggers the change. Usually the transition is seamless, but occasionally, on lucky days, I get to be in the middle for a while, this also lasting a couple hours to several days. I feel content, not happy or miserable, but a good medium. I know that it is right.
Emotion has the power to take over me. I put considerable amount of effort into staying in control. I work towards staying in the transition for as long as possible. Once I’ve mastered that, I want to be able to react to the world around me appropriately. It’s a battle, but I’m willing to fight. My name is torture and purity. My name is Kathryn.