July 3, 2011
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Often I can't think past my personal world. My first thoughts of an existence beyond myself seem to overwhelm me. Sometimes I surpass my controlling emotions and am able to view the world impartially.

Children don't possess the fears that keep them from living presently. They seem naturally- at home while their free spirits allow their bodies to roam, without questioning, through the spring ridden "Jungle" of a park. A shirtless, scrawny man chats in a stoic manner to a messy haired, k-mart clothed woman. The smallest of the children kicks his light up shoes ad calls for his mommy while she purposely ignores his cries. Soon life battles, such as these, will keep this child from living fearlessly. Looking deeper at the mother and son, I'm rather positive that the overly-hyper adolescent came from the womb of another woman, but now on earth they find themselves as one. Each individual through DNA and appearance belongs to the same jumbled family. The parents stand across the park picnicking and trying to create an existence that doesn't include the lives of their unplanned children. Every being on the surface of Connor Battlefield basks in the new, spring sun, dressed in unmatched shorts and mud covered tennis shoes. They interweave their so-called realities in a newly rejuvenated fashion. Even the birds sing freedom filled songs to one another and flash their wings to the yearned for sunlight.

I sit on a drab brown table and document my surrounding, taking my roll in this planet. I covered my torso this morning with a worn "Sex Pistols" shirt and a thick, gray-striped button down sweater. My strive to hide my thoughts fails, and with the awkward movements of my thumbs and pointer finger I've removed my sweater and am now flaunting the British punkness of the "Sex Pistols" with pride.

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