whispersreloaded
She threw the tiny pieces of styrofoam up into the air, laughing and spinning as they showered down on her like snow. The lace of her tiny pink dress spread like a fan as she twirled, giggling and laughing, her large brown eyes alight, her cheeks rosy with pleasure. Youth was so beautiful and innocent, I decided, as I watched my youngest daughter play.
We were so far apart, and yet only inches away, barred by language, by custom, by our families. It did not matter that you and I were both people. It only mattered that I was from here and that you were not. You were foreign. A stranger from another dimension. A wall of glass stood between us that could never be breached.
Her eyes were cold and severe as she stared down on me, judging, assuming. She knew what I was, that I was beneath her, unworthy of her. She knew my crimes. I felt a sudden need to hide my face.
At times I wonder if I'll ever reach the status of alumni. My studies are so daunting, like brick walls that keep crumbling down on me. My degree shines above me like a last breath of life, and yet I feel I'll suffocate before I ever reach it.
She raised her head high with all the integrity that she could manage, given the situation. Her pride felt shattered, her fingers trembled. But she had something she had to do, and she could not let such an incident hold her back.
Our minds connected through an information highway, stars and letters spinning through the wires that bind us. The distance could be anything. We could be planes and trains apart, but we are only seconds from talking, from smiling, from laughing together, our eyes lit by the video screen.
Hold me in the arms of success, a dream of happiness, a glimpse of bliss. A world so unlike my own, so far from the cold taste of reality. Where I am admired and respected. Where money is the least of my cares. Where all my worries turn to dust.
I keep wondering what my purpose in this life is. Am I destined to do something great, to change the course of history forever? Or am I only a part of the shaping of a greater person than I, a momentary brush with fate used to lead the true hero along his path into the future?
I'm trying to think of what I'll finally say when I approach you. Will I even have the courage to speak? Or will I find my voice knotted with my tongue in a hopeless mess? I want to tell you how I feel, and to maybe ask how you feel about me. But will I ever find the strength to approach you? Somehow I fear not...
We clacked our heels and dreamed of home, a journey through strawberry clouds and perhaps over rainbows. Skipping through fields of yellow poppies until we can see the peeling white paint of a familiar farmhouse on the hill, silhouetted against the sapphire sky. Just two more taps...
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