Alecks {{ District 12 (CB . FIN)
Sept 10, 2014 23:00:53 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Sept 10, 2014 23:00:53 GMT -5
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When I was eight years old, I succeeded in allowing the coal tipped body of a butterfly to land upon my nose, it's wings fluttering to a halt, and everything stood still, my eyes closed, body motionless.
When I opened them, I saw what the bug looked like up close and swatted it to the ground in a fit of fearful instinct. It didn't survive.
There's something odd about the predicament fate and all it's imperfections have placed me in right now.
Because I love my sister, with everything that I can muster from the bottom of my heart I love my sister. Born more or less together, the cold barrier of a few futile seconds separating us at birth. I used to think we came out holding hands, but over time Sam explained that wasn't possible. We grew up together, playing in the fields and working ourselves through nightmares and whatever problems life threw our way.
I love my sister, but she's trying to change me in ways that I never thought my own twin would try to do.
I've learned, through the mashed up wings of a swatted butterfly that nothing is perfect, and it never will be. The branch of a tree, the body of a bug, ourselves, we're made of imperfections. That's how we define ourselves, that's what gives us life.
She doesn't get that.
Far too often i've laid awake at night trying to figure out just how she can think that the world we live in could ever be a utopian, pristine, perfect place. I've turned my back to her ideas in favor of the imperfect world that we live in, and it's tearing both of us apart. I'm just an imperfect speck on her society.
I realized it early, nobody's perfect.
Sam's living proof.
When I was eight years old, I succeeded in allowing the coal tipped body of a butterfly to land upon my nose, it's wings fluttering to a halt, and everything stood still, my eyes closed, body motionless.
When I opened them, I saw what the bug looked like up close and swatted it to the ground in a fit of fearful instinct. It didn't survive.
__________________
There's something odd about the predicament fate and all it's imperfections have placed me in right now.
Because I love my sister, with everything that I can muster from the bottom of my heart I love my sister. Born more or less together, the cold barrier of a few futile seconds separating us at birth. I used to think we came out holding hands, but over time Sam explained that wasn't possible. We grew up together, playing in the fields and working ourselves through nightmares and whatever problems life threw our way.
I love my sister, but she's trying to change me in ways that I never thought my own twin would try to do.
I've learned, through the mashed up wings of a swatted butterfly that nothing is perfect, and it never will be. The branch of a tree, the body of a bug, ourselves, we're made of imperfections. That's how we define ourselves, that's what gives us life.
She doesn't get that.
Far too often i've laid awake at night trying to figure out just how she can think that the world we live in could ever be a utopian, pristine, perfect place. I've turned my back to her ideas in favor of the imperfect world that we live in, and it's tearing both of us apart. I'm just an imperfect speck on her society.
I realized it early, nobody's perfect.
Sam's living proof.
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ALECKS ZUIDERDUIN | DISTRICT 12
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ALECKS ZUIDERDUIN | DISTRICT 12
template by anzie
