All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Sand Castles, No More...
All aspirations seemed to have dissolved with my castles in the sand.
A tsunami happened, and literally everything, faded away.
Till there was nothing.
Once, long ago...I had huge cities...and skyscrapers there in the sand...my own magical world.
There was nothing like it...there on that beautiful sandy beach in my mind.
Then, in one horrible moment, it was all gone.
All of it. Everything.
After that tragic end...I began to (unwisely) construct again...
A different chapter,
farther away from the water and disaster, so I thought.
And just when I had some semblance of order...just when I had a bit of hope and began to build again
...another cruel tidal wave came.
And with it washed away all my hopeless whims...
small, though they were.
So, I rebuild again...and again...
and again my castles get maliciously torn to pieces. Demolished by the cruel tide.
Should I stop building my life in the sand? That fragile place where in moments it can be all taken away?
I decide to change what I make and where I make it, yet still build again.
The small child in my mind. In a dress of pure white, I sit obliviously happy and ignorant there on this beach in my mind and heart, bare foot, in contended bliss
with my tiny hands in the sand
...creating this time; new hopes and dreams. A real new beginning.
Creating stories...(sadly, only make believe)
Forging figures of people and places...a new place.
My sand friends.
...A place romanticized,
thought of as magic...as perfect.
The weirdest thing happens.
The waves do not come to my castles.
I take a bucket, a red pail...
and rush as fast as I possibly can, and fast as my tiny little feet can take me, to the crystalline water.
The water is incredibly clear...yet so dark. Darkness.
I fill my pail to the brim...over flowing...
As I run back with my red pail of sea water, water spills out...
splashes here and there. Until I have less and less.
When I reach my castles, I stand there and stare at my statues and figures
...my little people.
Warm salty tears start snaking down my face.
Suddenly, I take my red pail and pour whats left of the ocean water all over my world.
I run back to the water,
and again, more water spills and empties...but I always end up with at least some.
I pour it all over as my world starts looking sadly...
starts dissolving before my very eyes.
I do this again and again...
Over and over...and over..
all the while, yelling and screaming at myself " stop, stop!
Don't do it!
Don't do it!!
...You want this! ...You wanted this...
you created this."
almost as much as the water I pour on my life.
I marvel at how the little worlds that I create can be so evanescent...so fleeting.
One final time, I run to the water and run back with my red pail Half Empty.
I pour it melodramatically over the pitiful mush and mud that's left of my castles...my sand people.
But that wasn't enough for me, apparently.
It wasn't enough.
Not enough ruination and despair yet...
I begin to jump on the water-logged mess...
and start kicking all the sand around.
I get on my hands and knees and scratch it out, dig it up...
throw the mud everywhere. Like I'm out of my mind. Shrieking on the top of my lungs.
This goes on for a short time.
All of the sudden, I stop...
and I stare into nothingness.
My expression changes. Blank.
This time, it was me...
I destroyed my world.
I did it.
...It was I.
And the evidence of what was, of what I did...
is left all over my muddy hands...
my mud-stricken face...
my beautiful dress that was once pure white...
For all to see.
All the world to see.
The real world.
To judge and blame.
I will not say " poor me".