A Plague Too Pondered

November 10, 2008
These were the times that truely tested her maturity and good charecter. The sun perched upon the horizon in a mix of highlighter yellow and pink, the furry hood of her winter coat casting a long shadow behind her as she organized her thoughts and ideas intertwined in her head. At times it seemed like when she found her emotional balance, there was always that disease that plagued her body in a matter of a few minutes and always managed to mock the idea of "Everything is going to be okay."

That plague, that infestation that held her back from self-actualization can be defined as death- the permanent conclusion to one's life as natural as the change of the autumn weather, an art that blanks out a being so another could survive, to send a soul to be graced by the Almighty Holy Trinity, a realization that everyone needs to truely visualize the big picture, a final destination that is achieved naturally or unnaturally painful by the unacceptors. Yes, a deceitful and conniving uncle that visits her emotional abode many times in her life that she must learn to befriend in order to keep her sanity and a psychological balance as she grew into a woman; more accurately, as she grew into a child.

To live her childhood would be living among the innocent and nieve theories of "If I wish problems away, it will never have existed." She stared in the eyes of grief and sorrow at the age of 5, helplessly watching it eat at her heart before she knew how to stop it. What was worse was how she put the zeal and excitement for starting school on hold to harness the unsupported idea that her life would be so much better if this wouldn't have happened. She felt inadequate to her classmates who told stories about their time spent with their daddies. With all those feelings spinning in her head, she buried them way deep down somewhere never ever to see them again. "Those feelings are bad," she told herself, "and I don't want to make mommy sad or be a bad girl."

Those thoughts were born from the accident, her huge solid-foundation loving father and caregiver killed in a semi-truck accident.

And that's exactly what it was- an accident. His death was accidental, for he was not killed on purpose by another man- then his death would be caused by hate. He was not consumed by disease- then his death would have given notice. His death was accidental, soothing in the fact that it was not caused by hate but painful in the fact that it had not given notice, if that could make sense. It was a balanced mix of neither.

Of course, the tone of her life was whatever she made it to be. Twelve years later she would find solace not only in prayer but a whole different perspective on this to find success and peace of mind. Her thoughts and self image directed the thunderstorms of thinking rain upon her personality and social being. Living a different perspective strengthened her charecter during these times, where eventually she would blossom into a beautiful and happy young woman with a full life ahead of her.

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