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Fairytales And Disturbing Reality

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Ignore death up to the last moment; then, when it can't be ignored any longer, have yourself squirted full of morphine and shuffle off in a coma. Thoroughly sensible, humane and scientific, eh? - Aldous Huxley

Warm, sunny Easter morning. As I stepped out from my father’s dirty Chevy the rays of sun danced across my leg like hundreds of delicate fairies. The blacktop caressed my dainty foot as the wind danced around my body bringing my hair and skirt into a magnificent waltz of twists and twirls. As I walked into the serene white building, my mother’s hand held me like an anchor to the reality of life. It looked so happy on the outside with vibrant flowers in juxtaposition with the dull beige planter which contained them. The cool water bubbled and cascaded down the tranquil charcoal stones who cowered beneath the soft trickle of water as if they were scared of the perfect liquid ribbon. The ruthless sunlight ceased to eat away my virgin skin as I entered under an umbrella of protection. I proceeded under this protection until I reached sliding glass doors who seemed to welcome me into my biggest nightmare. Smiling faces and a chill greet my entrance. I hide my face from these robots they call people. As my legs mechanically extend forward down the never ending corridor the girl in my head sprints from the reality of the moment. With each slow step down the hall the girl sprints back to her happy fairytale. The gap is closing between the hall and door, my mind races on. I cling to the circle that will soon expand to engulf me into the biggest black hole I have yet to see. The girl in my head takes one last step, collapsing, and screaming on the way down. My fairytale is no more and the only thing left is the harsh grip of reality pushing me towards what I have always run from.


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