Wednesday, January 25, 2017

The Unfortunate Wonderland at a Quarter Past 11PM

It's a quarter past eleven in the evening and I hear gunshots outside. Looking out the window, I also hear police sirens in the distance. In a world of self doubt and pity of my own life, I call to make sure that the people I know are alright. I then drift for a second. I come to the conclusion that there are unfortunate people and events that govern a part of life that many fear. The fear is the hope that it will never happen to them. If life could only be explained with every individual living in their own universe of trained thoughts, ideas, and beliefs. Each individual universe of ideas being shared daily with dialogue but the language must be understood for them to evolve. To the conservative, the liberal is the cause, but to the liberal, the conservative is the problem. Then there's debate. In the midst of that debate a helpless child is born. In this thought, I then hear the ambulance sirens so I take a seat and read the paper. The paper shows foreign conflict and a lost child in the midst of war. Articles with tribal clans of the unfortunate people along with those they call colored and minorities, don't ask me where these names came from but I keep reading. Young teenagers on the corner in street clothes fighting and confused in a gentrified society searching for answers. Progression is deep and resources are scarce. Those who make it out only come back to reflect.  Promises of jobs and walls are in section 1A. Stories of sacrifice in the editorial section. My thoughts start to drift...even if you make it out, the unfortunate are still there. No matter your level of success they're still there. Temptations of security and a worry free life give you false impressions of the people around you. Everyone is in their own universe. What do I have that they want? What do I have that they need? "IN SORROW WE MUST MAINTAIN LOYALTY TO THE COUNTRY," that's the last article I read. I start to shiver waiting for my kids to come back in the house. They didn't answer their cell phones. I put down the paper and turn on more news to pass the time. A man with no arms smiles on the screen in a commercial representing surviving veterans. I turn away from the TV and notice a book on the shelf that's never been read. How do I keep going on? How do I remain fortunate? The buildings are so high and people would kill to reach the top. I then see a bitter man on the TV screen in the courtroom, the reporter states that his wife has labeled him useless because he cannot provide for his family so I guess he beat her. The fighting made the news with her kneeling at an altar and her husband in prison. Let me guess, another divorce. I'm assuming payment will be due for the children later. I then see a story about unfortunate college students, I guess those who seek knowledge must also pay the teacher. I take a moment to look at the pictures of me and my family on the walls. There's no escape, but I must keep my head up. Even after a death, one must remain optimistic when they're left with nothing to lose. I shed a tear but I soon realize that I must move on. I hope the bullets that I heard at a quarter past eleven missed the heart. 

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