Purity and Torture

July 8, 2009
By Anonymous

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.

The author's comments:
I wrote this paper for an online english course for school. This is based off of an excerpt from Houose on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

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