Every Tuesday classes were let out to go to what I call RUW: random university worshiping. Alienated myself, wondering if in fact Briggs was keeping himself from the teachings of God.
Squished between two locals. Fear grew inside me, the nervous being I’d become started showing through my skin. The presence of every individual surrounding my circumference. Thousands stood out to me, my air supply escaping. Used by others moments ago. Mentally I felt eyes were on me. Questioning my very being there. Timid short girl enjoying the avid eaters club, while others scowled at her behavior as they calculated their calories.
The speaker led importance in their church. In one swift motion the stadium seats stopped squeaking. They start out with a welcoming prayer. Mimicking the students around me. I fold my arms and bow my obedient head.
Amen.
Brother So & So commences his welcome address. The man professed we were all siblings, even I, the outsider.
Voices of my brothers and sisters in harmonious song to a hymn; we were all connected in some level of spirit. As much as I didn’t necessarily feel that way, I now belonged to this student body like it or not. I choose not by the way! I was there among the blank faces awaiting a message from above. Carrying from safe shore we are great men lost in a sea of impersonated ideas. Individuals trying to convince us we are unworthy of life, of love.
So & So spoke to us about the importance of absolution. The act of forgiving those whom wronged your pathway. Speaking of forgiveness, my father’s head appeared only for the opposite of the meaning.
Treachery, the main word I found beneath his surname every day. The acceptance of what he had done of what he let go, was nonnegotiable. Taking his son’s life was rather the opposite of sacrifice. It was a means of tying the loose ends my brother had left behind.
Silence became more welcoming than I could ever crave to be imaginable. There was a quiet aroma that filled the auditorium. My voice no longer shaken, but strengthened. Choices of lifetimes were now welcoming, yet threatening to the young adult I was becoming. I started to focus less on career wise and more on what was particular and personal.
I walk down the corridors watching the other girls smile discreetly, I role play in my head that the make arguments about the guys in their lives. Demanding for her to stay away from her future husband. The other gal quoting back that she only went on one date with him. The first girl getting utterly frustrated and ends with you know I’ve prayed about us being together! They give goodbye smiles and are lifelong friends, sharing housewife methods and children playdates. I am stuck in the midst of this normalcy, their petty perfume makes me sick. Imaginary riots are so much more interesting.
Today they wear floor length skirts, shaking hands with the cement. I feel included. Buying the first pair of blue jeans I ever owned. Those bottoms were so fetching tight it nearly took me all morning to get out of them. Yet you classify me as strange.
I know what you’re thinking, I’ve been civilized having lived with The Traveling Circus, for goodness sake. Habits have always been a misery to moderate the fact of tradition. Close approached as we all envisioned it would. We weren’t running a marathon, passing the torch onto the next team player.
Sometimes you just have to let your hair down and conclude so forth.
20 degrees outside, all I want is to lay in the snow. Having the sensations of snowflakes hit my face, as they begin to enter my hippocampus. Even if the sun were in my eyes, I’d throb for this feeling more than anything, the impassiveness.
It was a good thing about this Idaho weather, it concaved in the direction of numbness.
Strolling the tiled floors to every class, head casted to the floor in an awful despair. Sharing wondrous intervals with a boy who acutely understood the synonyms I spoke of. The emotions in our minds followed by the consequences in our actions; intrepid motives strangling me to believe more to come.
Several weeks following our cascading incident he arrived on my doorstep. Knocking on the behaving door curious for another.
I heard his voice; mesmerized by the vocals attached. When I got up to see him; he merely smiled as he dashed away with a girl named Ashlee Bleu.
Truthfully he was mine to begin with, wasn’t he? I wondered for quite some time if I held the privileges to this type of jealousy and discontentment. Those hands I had never held, nonetheless been acquainted. Now they were divulging in her aroma. Mine left unscathed.
Yes, Ashlee Bleu was one of my roommates. Of course, I wanted you to think that this girl, Ashlee was in fact a stranger he had simply discovered at the nearest street corner. She’s sweet, I preached to myself.
At least everybody told me that.
My association with this gal was entirely irrelevant. I remember quoting to her that her father was in coincident, a polygamist. He may or may not be. Ashlee did have a lot of brothers and sisters. As did I, not to pass judgment there. I may have made matters worse as to ask if her dear mother pushed all of those kids out. I have seen my own mother give birth and luckily I since I ran away from a life of good faith and childbearing I may never have to perform that action. Insincerely, 14 of your offspring, you’re freaking bat-crap crazy lady! How many descendants did this person actually necessitate? 2-4 maybe a good entitlement on your name.
The Branch President reined her patriarch. Whose office I witnessed Briggs leaving yesterday. I wondered what that was about. Probably warning him to stay far away. Briggs in motion, already thinking of proposing to the precious daughter. Beyond those words she made it apparent I wasn’t to be involved with on special occasions. Ashlee, clarified I had been the one to with the kiss of deceit.