Anarchy | District 4 | Fin
Mar 13, 2015 4:38:24 GMT -5
Post by flyss on Mar 13, 2015 4:38:24 GMT -5
Anarchy
District four | 15 years old | odair | Roos abels
People always say that the eyes are the window to the soul, when in reality, one's words are the window to the soul. Simply by how somebody pronounces the word 'vase' can you tell how they were raised, how they were taught, how they lived their life up until this point in time. Its elegant yet efficient at the entirely same time. However, just as with any system, there are flaws that prove the entire epidemic to be pointless. That's how I live my life every day. Every challenge, every interaction, every thought that crosses my mind is simply a series of logic puzzles, each harder and ultimately more complex than the last. One day, I'll reach the last set and my life will be over, but for now all I can do is sit and wait, sit and wait, sit and wait until my time draws to a close and I get called to the last reception desk I'll ever have to wait behind. I'll stand behind some bloke with half-moon hair and eyes like a cloud of dust. From staring at him for hours, peering into what many consider the most open part of the human existence, I will gather not a single image of what he's said, of what he's seen, of what he's lived. I will not find out how he was raised, how he was taught, how he lived his life until the final point in time in which he ended up here. But if he were to greet me with a full moon smile and words like a reflection pool, I might complete that story book of his just in time to see him off to his eternity, wherever that might be. On many occasions have I myself wondered where I will go when I am no more and when I have no where else to be. I do not believe in what is considered heaven, nor do I believe in what is considered hell. What I do believe in is living in the present and not worrying about what has happened or what, more so to speak of, will happen in the seconds, minutes, days, years to come in my life. I am not defined by my actions just as you aren't by yours. I am simply me, in whole existence, upon this vast piece of land in which was dubbed "Panem". The irony of this name is astounding. Isn't it only fitting that we, as a human race, end in Panem? The name of which begins with the word stem for all when, in fact, it is all for one? The Three Musketeers would be ashamed to have found out this incredulous nonsense. The original phrase is, after all, one for all and all for one. Mr. Snow sure does have his way with fucking up everything, now does he? Of course, if he had ever, truly, stopped to consider what he was doing with the world, only then would he not give a shit and continue to do it anyway. He cannot do that if he has never stopped to contemplate the action precisely how it will be carried out. Actions speak louder than any words will ever be able to. Phrases of those likes are not to be taken most literally because actions, in reality, have no noise on their own. The person performing them, however, can be as loud as they please. Still, if I were to shout from one side of the room to the other, rather than stomping with just as much force, the shouting, which I vocally caused, would, indeed, be much louder than my movement. Still, we would have to take into consideration if I was wearing socks or shoes, what kind of shoes, if I was hurt, if I was tired, and endless other deciding factors in fairness. Equality is simply something that will never be of reality. Still, people strive for it. We live in a god-damned communist nation and here you are attempting to get equality. Spend your efforts on something more appealing, like collecting race cars or possibly food for the homeless. Both are less likely to cause failure and neither are even somewhat relatively dangerous, so to speak. Even if I were able to do something other than fish off the coast with my father, or weave netted baskets for my mother, my hair would still remain the same sandy blonde, my eyes would still remain the same misty grey, and my lips would still remain the same plump, pink shape they were beforehand. I, in my entirety would not change one bit. However, I might gain more respect for my elders, which nearly always comes in handy if you wish to work for something other than what everybody else does. Every last person in this district is an example of raising your children to believe every word that comes out of an adults mouth and while, if they're your child, this may be necessary, if you did not host them or take part in creating them in any way, you do not have the right to feed them lies like slices of cake. They are not your doll. You are not their maker. Sometimes, I will be taking a simple stroll through a public setting and a worried mother will pull her child to the side and I'm open, I'm free, I'm truthful. And that's one thing I can hold above everybody's heads when I take my last breath and say my last words. Every time, over and over, they'll always be the same. I win. I win. I win. |
