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i created a world
I created a world
In which I can play
And defy gravity in
And bend the rules in
And fake physics in
And have fun in.
I’ve made the ground out of mulch. All spongy and sqoosh. All green and healthy. I jump and leap through it. I bound upon bouncy ground and running feet.
I’ve kept my sky the way dear God would’ve designed it. I love Jehovah’s beautiful painted sunsets. I leave them as is. I worry not about the sky unless something seems not right.
I like my flowers exotic and interesting and new. I like them bright and dark and all colors in between. I like them smooth and blotchy and long and spiny. I like them unimaginably beautiful!
I created a world where I am free, limitless, boundless, and without boundaries. I can run and run and run. Nothing can stop me except my easily yanked attention. I can jump into the air and flying. Leaping endlessly upwards and sideways, forever and ever. Nothing can stop me from reaching higher or going further.
I can wade through the crisp, cool waters for an eternity. They stay about my ankles and my knees and they stay warm and comforting as they fill with blurring rays of sunlight. The sun is always on my skin nowadays.
I don’t worry about anything anymore. I don’t worry about how bad or good my singing is when I try to resonate with the birdies of the skies. I don’t worry about whether I’ll be accepted or not. I live in a world I have created and the only thing to fear is my own self and my own imagination.
I do not worry over whether I talk too much or laugh too much. I do not question whether or not I will be accepted. I do not worry about how I look or how I am viewed. Who is to view me but the birds and the trees? Who is criticize me but the grassy fields and the flower beds? Who is there to say I am too loud but the oceans waves and the clouds fluff?
No one can say I do not belong. No one can claim I am not worthy of living in my own world. No one can cast me out and say I am strange. That is simply not so. Not in my world.
I am perfect and beautiful in my world. I am graceful and dainty in my world. I am sweet and polite in my own world. My silken black hair flows with the wind, nice and clean. Untangled are the strands from my head as they stroke my shoulders. Smooth and unflawed is my skin, tanned light brown.
In the summer I am darker. My hair is like charcoal and my skin is dark tanned. The butterflies have no fear of me. None does thy make me tremble. Always am I calm in my world. Always am I happy. Could I never be happier?
My world is calm, tranquil, and so quiet. The sadness in my world is a low truth that I do not wish to recognize.
That I am alone.
It is only me here in my world. Upon very rare occasions, though, She comes out of the fields. She comes closer to me. Sometimes she just stares and looks down on me. She finds joy in defying my world. “Your sky must change. It’s not futuristic.” She says. “Your grasslands are not realistic. Your smile is too wide.” She points out.
But She never comes close to me. She never comes to where I can reach her. She only stands in defiance to me. Making me feel small again. Holding herself bigger than me. Standing more beautiful. Becoming more perfect. But then She leaves.
And my world becomes mine again. But along with that comes the sad truth, too. That I am alone.
No one to criticize me. No one to say, “This and this is not right!” or “Why is it you smile so much to yourself, girl?” No one to hush me or applaud me. No one to smile back at me. No one to laugh right along with me. No one to wave ‘hello’ or ‘good-bye’ to. No one and simply no one.
I’m all alone, but isn’t it nice?
I’m filled with joy and calm and sheer peace! I am beautiful and flawless and amazing. I am breathtaking and lovely. My surroundings are beautiful and scenic. Wide open spaces—no, not spaces but landscapes. Wide open landscapes! A clear endless sky, such a bright beautiful pale blue! With light thin wispy white clouds smeared across it! A beautiful happiness just fills me! A lovely light cool breeze hugs me. My thin summer dress whips around my legs, its soft light texture a soothing pat-pat against my skin. My thick hair blowing like a sapped blanket and lapping like a proud flag against my shoulders, slightly barren. I breathe in deeply and breathe out slowly, peacefully and lovingly. I run barefoot through soft, long, tall, bright green grass. My fingertips hitting the heads of the grass blades as I run my hands over the tops of the fields that shrink and become mine. I float the miniature field atop a surface of water and make a tiny island fit for a ladybug princess. It could be her getaway, I suppose. I want to create something new. I feel like designing a new type of field flower. And so I do.
I become aware of an opening in my world. A break from the natural seems to catch my attention. Then as I turn and look up, I see Her. She is making her way towards me, from over the hills. A darkness seems to come with her. A storm seems to hover above her high in the heavens. When She comes close enough she stops and stands still. She stands so defiant against me, with her head held all high and mighty like that. Her long, thin, black hair mocking my own as it flaps and sways about her elbows and strong arms.
Her bold red dress dripping like blood about her thigh, seeping down her womanly leg, and curling in a dragon’s tongue sort of way around her ankle. I appear so innocent and girlish as if set in front of her on trial as I stand opposite of my oppose. She opens her mouth to speak but instead laughs, without words, mocking my simple summer dress. She strides over to me closer than ever before, her brilliant red dress replicating waves of blood, ripple as She walks condescendingly towards me. She lifts the new species of flower I have just created and…destroys it. Crumbles of what once my flower and my satisfaction filter through the openings of her fingers and flutter down onto my lap of slightly quavering hands. My sky darkens, reflecting my feelings of anguish inside, raindrops serving as my tears. Then thunder rumbles up above and rolls in through me; exploding like lighting from my mouth, anger rises up and gives forth scalding insults meant for the burning of a much hated one.
But instead, She smiles, her lips rising like blood from a deep wound, bubbling forth a laugh through her shimmering teeth. Gritting my own, despair creeps into my throat and lungs; I realize what I’ve done: wrecked my own sanctuary. Added coals to a fire; over a flower. Then my guilt and shame, fall like heavy rain; puddleling up at my feet, trapping my soles , my heels, ankles; in mud too deep to walk in. With heavy hurting head hung low, my legs make a glomping sound as I trudge through my own anguish. I have to acknowledge what is my fault in order to make the rain stop. But I can’t—no, I won’t. I refuse to stop being angrily upset and saddened over a flower, because—because of what? I want an apology? Because I cannot remake the thing? I don’t know. And so, because of my own foolish feelings and pride, I will drown…in my own daydream of a magnificent world.
And She, will continue on, laughing, and beautiful as She watches and looks on at my demise; safely above me—above the thick murky rain-water—in a rowboat made up of jealousy-pine wood. In a way, I helped her to survive the deluge; somehow I made that rowboat for her; convinced myself somewhere along, during the rage, that she would make it and I wouldn’t. huh… interesting.
Doesn’t that mean, though, that I can change it? Her face becomes blurry, as I question this. I can save myself? Her smile can no longer be seen from where I am; from where I have put myself: down here, to drown, helplessly. This is suicide. Suicide by my own means because of my own emotions! Silly me, I think to myself, laughing on the inside. As I take a deep breath in, the waters around me depart almost unnoticeably and I rise to separate myself from the deluge of sludge and heaviness down below. Flying quite easily now and breathing with relief, I stare down, down at Her. She, no longer in the rowboat of safety I had imagined for her, begins to look back up at me with narrowed eyes. For a moment’s time, there we are again; but this time, the tables have turned. This time, I can control the next move.
So I cast her away, for now…and remember, that I have to face her again and again. I have to acknowledge that She is a part of me and will always be there deep down inside of the darkest parts of me. But that She will not have control over me. I will control me and this is my world!