“The Picture of My Life.”
Rachel- A’lexandria Leigh Hawkins
With colors and dashes, and red and strikes. With people, and faces and confusion and strife. My life as a picture, or a series of pictures. It’s confusing, so much so that I can’t even tell. So here comes my, painting, my collage of words, to describe the scenes of my life.
When I was young, things were confusing, but so very simple. So looking back from where I now stand would be stomach churning. Oh, the opportunities I missed to be happy. My life as a picture when I was so young. Me, as a child, standing so cluelessly, and grinning. I stand there still as a picture, as I am one. Behind me: a background very simple. But a blue. Such a grey blue. Still it is happy, nothing else is there, for then, there was nothing else to worry about, except that dull blue. Being young, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with the blue, but luckily, looking back, I see that the blue had too much grey in it. Back then it didn’t worry me, as it shouldn’t. My mother’s office, or he family room, that was where the blue lied. The dull grey: the confusion. Its cause was me. I was confused, I was different, but this didn’t worry me.
The next scene, or part of the first. It is close to the same, for my life didn’t not change so greatly. The difference? I gained so much more knowledge. This is when I framed my personality and how I looked at things and responded to things. More confusion. That’s the only significant change I bother to note as of now. Yellow marks, all about me, but still few in number. This is how my next life scene is drawn. These new dashes all around me are the confusing things that arise. I find out startling truths, and I disagree with mother, I disagree with brother. I noticed that father leaves every day, and that sister leaves me for others. I still don’t remark too much on things at home, because I found new joy, at school. The new joy is called learning, is called friends. Red, happy lines, that curve about my face, this is the happiness that distracts me from the yellow dashes of depression.
Still as I grow I learn, new bad things. My life as a picture, it brings only more sadness in the face. As my picture progresses, as I become older, my pose does not change. I am still walking forward. But my face detects sadness. I learn something new; silly me for thinking something so terrible could never happen. A move occurs, of our house of course, and I, too stubborn, have the hardest part in getting over the pain. I am still walking forward, and the yellow lines show, but the red to distract me is no longer there. Since we moved and the setting changed, there is no more dull grey. It is worse as of now. The grey turns to black and the blue into scenes, terrible scary scenes that would confuse the earthiest of people. Sure, the confusion of the previous picture was undoubtedly annoying, but this much was torture. We had moved and this discombobulated me. It was a horrid time of my life in which I wish not to relive. The face on me grows of the saddest depression, but I continue forward, if only a bit slower now. The scenes around me consist of bare and unimaginable confusion. I beg for that much to end.
Finally things settle down. The grey and blue do not exist any longer, and the yellow lines have dissipated. I’ve learned to cherish the red lines, rather then cry for them. Now, of course, there are confusing scenes, but perhaps fewer around me. I still walk forward. I still carry a sad face, but not so dramatic. The trauma of moving still haunts me, but I’ve accepted the reality. This new scene holds a new beginning. It is the beginning of the end of the beginning of new life, and I have learned to cope.
Always there will be emotional times where I long for the dull grey, and wish to push the blackened scenes away, but this much is acceptable to me. I still will walk forward always and forever. The pictures, painting or collage is already set in my mind, and perhaps now it is in yours. Take my words and ponder, then walk forward in your life. |
