...
.....
......
.....
...
Every morning he opens his eyes. He quivers, trying not to think about all the images that will pass before his eyes that day. The only beautiful vision he has is that of the Sun rising, and even that passes too quickly to enjoy.
He doesn't like breakfast, but he eats it. Usually just enough to fill his stomach; either way it's meager. He watches the dead bodies on television and listens to the protests. He wonders where his family is at such an early hour.
On occasion, he entertains the idea of going back to bed, wrapping his arms around his second pillow as if it were a body. That fantasy never lasts long. He does not enjoy delusions. He wants a better world. A world full of flowers.
Lavender. His favorite. He passes a patch of it from time to time while traveling. He always admires it, but doesn't stop anymore. Only once, when he picked some for girl. He stopped that practice after she rejected them.
He doesn't know how but he always makes it through the day. Some are better than others. In some he's able to laugh. In others he merely cries. In all he pretends. But his eyes always tell the truth. They alone contain the mystery.
Soon, he will go back to bed. His eyes have seen enough. He desperately tries to erase the images from his mind. He fails. He can't close his eyes or he'll see them. Sketched upon his eyelids. So he holds them open until he falls asleep.
...
.....
......
.....
...
Can you imagine what it would be like to lose everything you have? Not just the obvious things, like your car, your job, your home, your friends; but the truly important things: inspiration, fulfillment, purpose, and hope. Everyone gets depressed; and everyone is the hero of their own story: that is not what I am talking about.
Here's what I'm talking about:
In December of 1991, a baby girl was born to a single mother on the streets of Paris, France. The mother was an American college student living with her aunt and uncle for a year. At a party one night, she met a handsome guy with whom she ended up having sex. Eight weeks later she found out she was pregnant. She chose to give birth to the baby with the intent of putting it up for adoption.
Three months before she came back to America, overcome with shame and the ridicule of her aunt and uncle, the mother, instead of giving the baby to an adoption agency, placed the one month old baby girl in a garbage can in a back alley of Paris.
A homeless man, looking for food, found the baby. Thinking he could use the baby as a means of sympathy to get food and money, he decided to keep her. The girl was raised on the streets, abused in countless ways--was malnourished and sickly--until 2002. At the age of ten, the girl turned to an orphanage for help. Within a few months the girl was adopted by a family of four: a middle-aged set of parents and two teenage boys. The entire family was drug addicted and quickly got the 10 year girl involved.
By 2005, at 13 years old, the girl somehow managed to track down the aunt and uncle of her mother. She found out how she was conceived and born and what had been done with her. The aunt and uncle, torn apart by guilt and sympathy, tried to get the girl to live with them.
The girl refused. She ran away from her adopted family, but was still addicted to cocaine and meth. In an attempt to get more drugs, she was attacked by two teenage boys. She ended up stabbing one in the throat, killing him, but could not fend off the other. Two months later, the girl found out that she was pregnant. Even at 13 years old, the girl could not stand the thought of bringing a child into the world to live as she had.
Just as the bump on her stomach began to form, she took a metal pipe and beat her stomach until it was bleeding.
The baby was never born.
In 2006, at 14 years old (FOURTEEN YEARS OLD!), the girl wrote a little letter on a blue-lined piece of paper, tucked it inside her shirt, placed the barrel of a military issue pistol to her head and pulled the trigger. No one knows where she got the pistol.
...
.....
......
.....
...
This girl could have been saved. She said in her suicide letter that the only reason she killed herself was because she had killed the baby inside of her and that justice demanded that her life be taken as well. She also said this: "I'm sorry that my mom didn't love me even before I was born, I wish I could have been better. I'm sorry to all the people that I hurt, and I hope the ones that hurt me get better...I hope everyone who is worse off than me gets help too." (For clarity purposes, I fixed all grammatical errors). This girl had been pushed to the brink of humanity, and somehow, she managed to retain it.
The next time you think you have it hard because you lost your job, or your best friend lied to you, or your parents yelled at you, or you feel lonely: understand one thing and one thing only: you are blessed, and you don't deserve what you have, and if you are that self absorbed in yourself to think that you should be the center of the universe, than I'm sorry. The little girl would probably agree that you have it "worse off" than anybody else...
I just hope your humanity isn't too big a price to pay.
.....
......
.....
...
Every morning he opens his eyes. He quivers, trying not to think about all the images that will pass before his eyes that day. The only beautiful vision he has is that of the Sun rising, and even that passes too quickly to enjoy.
He doesn't like breakfast, but he eats it. Usually just enough to fill his stomach; either way it's meager. He watches the dead bodies on television and listens to the protests. He wonders where his family is at such an early hour.
On occasion, he entertains the idea of going back to bed, wrapping his arms around his second pillow as if it were a body. That fantasy never lasts long. He does not enjoy delusions. He wants a better world. A world full of flowers.
Lavender. His favorite. He passes a patch of it from time to time while traveling. He always admires it, but doesn't stop anymore. Only once, when he picked some for girl. He stopped that practice after she rejected them.
He doesn't know how but he always makes it through the day. Some are better than others. In some he's able to laugh. In others he merely cries. In all he pretends. But his eyes always tell the truth. They alone contain the mystery.
Soon, he will go back to bed. His eyes have seen enough. He desperately tries to erase the images from his mind. He fails. He can't close his eyes or he'll see them. Sketched upon his eyelids. So he holds them open until he falls asleep.
...
.....
......
.....
...
Can you imagine what it would be like to lose everything you have? Not just the obvious things, like your car, your job, your home, your friends; but the truly important things: inspiration, fulfillment, purpose, and hope. Everyone gets depressed; and everyone is the hero of their own story: that is not what I am talking about.
Here's what I'm talking about:
In December of 1991, a baby girl was born to a single mother on the streets of Paris, France. The mother was an American college student living with her aunt and uncle for a year. At a party one night, she met a handsome guy with whom she ended up having sex. Eight weeks later she found out she was pregnant. She chose to give birth to the baby with the intent of putting it up for adoption.
Three months before she came back to America, overcome with shame and the ridicule of her aunt and uncle, the mother, instead of giving the baby to an adoption agency, placed the one month old baby girl in a garbage can in a back alley of Paris.
A homeless man, looking for food, found the baby. Thinking he could use the baby as a means of sympathy to get food and money, he decided to keep her. The girl was raised on the streets, abused in countless ways--was malnourished and sickly--until 2002. At the age of ten, the girl turned to an orphanage for help. Within a few months the girl was adopted by a family of four: a middle-aged set of parents and two teenage boys. The entire family was drug addicted and quickly got the 10 year girl involved.
By 2005, at 13 years old, the girl somehow managed to track down the aunt and uncle of her mother. She found out how she was conceived and born and what had been done with her. The aunt and uncle, torn apart by guilt and sympathy, tried to get the girl to live with them.
The girl refused. She ran away from her adopted family, but was still addicted to cocaine and meth. In an attempt to get more drugs, she was attacked by two teenage boys. She ended up stabbing one in the throat, killing him, but could not fend off the other. Two months later, the girl found out that she was pregnant. Even at 13 years old, the girl could not stand the thought of bringing a child into the world to live as she had.
Just as the bump on her stomach began to form, she took a metal pipe and beat her stomach until it was bleeding.
The baby was never born.
In 2006, at 14 years old (FOURTEEN YEARS OLD!), the girl wrote a little letter on a blue-lined piece of paper, tucked it inside her shirt, placed the barrel of a military issue pistol to her head and pulled the trigger. No one knows where she got the pistol.
...
.....
......
.....
...
This girl could have been saved. She said in her suicide letter that the only reason she killed herself was because she had killed the baby inside of her and that justice demanded that her life be taken as well. She also said this: "I'm sorry that my mom didn't love me even before I was born, I wish I could have been better. I'm sorry to all the people that I hurt, and I hope the ones that hurt me get better...I hope everyone who is worse off than me gets help too." (For clarity purposes, I fixed all grammatical errors). This girl had been pushed to the brink of humanity, and somehow, she managed to retain it.
The next time you think you have it hard because you lost your job, or your best friend lied to you, or your parents yelled at you, or you feel lonely: understand one thing and one thing only: you are blessed, and you don't deserve what you have, and if you are that self absorbed in yourself to think that you should be the center of the universe, than I'm sorry. The little girl would probably agree that you have it "worse off" than anybody else...
I just hope your humanity isn't too big a price to pay.
No comments:
Post a Comment