Everyone has filled out at least one of those questionnaires out. You know what I'm talking about, they always have them in personality quizzes and magazines. Books and surveys. The familiar set of life questions that are meant to give you insight to who you truly are. Of course, there's usually some repeating ones.
What is your definition of love?
Dogs or cats?
Who in your life makes you laugh the most?
What is your biggest fear?
See, it's that last one that really gets to me. Every time I see it, it's like everything in my brain suddenly stops and falls back on this little dusty reel of thoughts, starting to play in my head. It begins with my age. Fifteen.
Flashing back to child me, I remember how I used to lay my head on my mother's lap, hair cascading down her legs while I tell her softly that I could never ever ever be mad at her. How I couldn't stand the thought of having to grow up and move away from home. I hug her and kiss her on the cheek, then reach up and whisper that I looove her so much.
The tape slips forward to another memory.
I'm sitting in a hot car with my sister. There's sweat dripping tauntingly slow down my temple and I reach to wipe it off with a towel in the backseat every few minutes. The baby starts crying. I feel the now familiar tightening in the back of my throat and the dull feeling on my eyelids. Mom said she would be back soon! The baby gets louder and I'm so hot. I turn around and scream at her until she goes silent. Then I release and start to cry. I climb into the back and tell her sorry over and over.
The tape moves faster.
I'm on the phone with my best friend. You can see how dark it is outside the window. The doors to my closet have been completely shut and I'm crouching on top of a pile of sweaters because if my parents heard me I'd be dead. I have tears streaming down my cheeks as I ask my poor friend why I'm never good enough for anyone? Why can't anyone just accept me for myself? Why can't I do that too? Why won't I forget about him because he really is such an awful person and I know it's dumb and I'm just a kid? She doesn't have any answers for me, though. Then I tell myself to shut up, why can't I ever just shut up?
The tape is wearing down.
I'm sitting cross legged on the floor staring into nothing because that's how I feel. My best friends are having our first fight. I don't have any more tears, or maybe I do, but for now my eyes catch a break. My throat is hoarse. Someone's pointing their finger at me, which makes no sense because I know my own name and I know that I'm the problem. That's just the way it is. So I leave the room and sit on the toilet seat while blankly listening to their conversation through the thin walls, letting them unknowingly spit the poison that will sink into my heart for the next who knows how long, believing everything they say with an empty heart. I guess there are more tears.
Today.
I sit on my bed writing these words and think about that reel of tape. It's moving so fast. Too fast. I begin to wonder when it will catch and just
stop.
The simplicity of the words but the complexity of the meaning left me mesmerized. This is a piece that the more you read it, the author's purpose comes in small doses. The first time reading through the post, I felt that things didn't really tie together well. The more you reread it though the more the meanings and word choices play into displaying a deep idea. The author starts off with talking about fears which slowly wraps into a talk about insecurities, time and how it never ceases to slow down, and how memories never seem too far away. Using perfect examples of imagery, diction, and pathos, the author then lightly implies and sets the reader on their own course of asking these deep questions for themselves. Congratulations Morgan on creating a piece that is truly a great post and uses many rhetorical devices expertly while providing an intellectual read. GREAT JOB BUD!!
ReplyDeleteThis post was fantastic! I totally and completely agree with Cara. This was by far the best post I've read so far. I absolutely love the metaphor comparing a dusty reel of tape to memories, its simplistic, but perfect. Also, the poetic
ReplyDeletestop. at the end. It was an amazing ending to a wonderful piece of writing.