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Elizabeth

Ungrateful Beauty

May 1, 2014

Every morning, the sun streams from my window, hitting my tired eyes. The glow is so beautiful, it looks like the gates of heaven itself. A doorway into a world that is incredibly unknown to the likes of me. The attic is cold and musty, dust collecting in my lungs. I don't care, not if it means a cool windowpane is staring back at me. In my dreams, I am able to walk through it and into the real world, I am able to become the small ants of people hurrying about from the ground. Licking my dry lips, I press my hand against the window. The glass does not bend to my will morphing my body into something that it's not, so this isn't a dream. Oh, how I wish it was. Looking down across the street, I see the first person to come step into the day. Adjusting his tie to the cool spring morning, ready to face the corporate world for which he lays his feet down upon. He moves quickly. Not noticing the beautiful day, or his beautiful wife waving a loving goodbye at the doorstep. Easily as the day commences, men and women alike will move, not paying any attention to anything but what they need to do. Their children will become just like them. Tunnel visioned. Powered by their responsibility to the real world. No acknowledgement of the beauty they hold. The door behind me slowly creeks open. Raising my head, my eyes adjust to the dark background behind me the reflection of cobwebs, dolls collecting dust, and my mother.

"Why do you sit there all day?" She asks.

"Because I can never be like them." I say simply, looking at my legs through the window's reflection that will never move.

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