Shade
With in english we were asked to construct a personal essay that was completely metaphorical. This was to be a representation of things we have learned so far in life, however we as a class were encouraged to write this essay using a show not tell format. Because of the show not tell format compelled us to evolve creative similes and metaphors.
Withered worn drained of its color, lifeless and loose. I look at the light mirrored on it's water marinated surface, my eyes dragged up to the sky where beads of water raid down. I am a fire, that of passion and unlike any before me, never dying even in my solitude I ember, It’s smouldering orange glitter. My is fire endangered by the tempestuous world above and around me as pellets of criticism whirl by and the wind blowing, pushing, and stomping as they both vie to distinguish me. If I was a craven one, I would cloak myself with the protection of my umbrella, until the security of the sun emerges. The sun slices the fog, its soft maple syrup glow strong and powerful rays sends the fearful downcast clouds fleeing. Here under my umbrella I hold myself back, hooding my individualism and talents and melt into a facade of all common flat and two dimensional prerequisites.
When under the umbrella, I am influenced to hide, to blend into a gray and grim society, a dull overcast day. The dull only fosters just black and white, less quirky and more intellectual, one that shreds spits and chews up a human. I look to the puddle now forming at my feet and watch the water dooling off of my umbrella, and I see my reflection but not my face. I don’t recognize what I am, or what I want to be. I see someone who isn’t as creative as Steve Jobs or as smart as Einstein. I see the unfamiliar face glaring at me, a withering fire that is shielding itself from the world.
As I withdraw my shelter from the intense and brutal rain, the beads now slithering onto me, I am refreshed, renewed. It is always anomalous and uncomfortable the first time being stuck by rain. Every drop of precipitation reflects the world, it will form and create clouds and rain with hardships; people coming from unexpected angles all will try to compare you to others, beating you down. The slapping of the water can inevitably distinguish a small fire, people in the the crossfire of propelled H2O cry, disheartened, as they run for cover. Their umbrella insulates them from the nipping of the rain, and the as it fabricates a customary identity, boring and bland observed constantly. For me, though the painful sting of the a storm raging hurts it creates as much as a sizzle or snap, in my fire. It can should never shatter the fire allowing the rage of the devil to obliterate me for not being the norm.
It was not until recently when I found out that the rain and its tempestuous ways can only mold you more and more into what you create it to be. Remove the shadows of your umbrella and grasp your cool clay mash it, form it, smooth it. Form something contrary to the normalcy of a umbrella, the visceral reaction of society will be an attempt to erode your sensitive skin. But you are you, and no one else is so don't mask your individual uniqueness; it is rare and special, and the next time you see a worn umbrella, think about the seas of umbrellas that compose the ocean.If this monumental globe called earth is 71% water how many people aren't people at all?
