Survival of The Fittest

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
What is life? What is there that makes us want to survive? Nothing. Everything.

Submitted: May 21, 2016

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Submitted: May 21, 2016

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A A A


Survival of The Fittest

There is a time and place for everything, for everyone.

Like a flame dancing in the air, anything can be doused by the smallest of actions. By a cover that takes away the oxygen, the fuel of the flame, of life.

Nothing is concrete. Everything must change and adapt because, after all is said and done, life is all about surviving.

Survival of the fittest is an ancient theory. Only the best will survive the pack, so I decided to be the best. Because a life, is no life at all, if you don’t survive.

Let me ask you, do you think you are the best? Do you think that above anyone else you would survive? I’m not just talking about a life or death situation; adrenaline kicks in making you stronger. I’m talking about your day, getting up, getting ready, going to work, coming home. What parts of your day do you think involve surviving? Nothing. Everything.

Now, I want you to think about why you survive.

Why are you cautious while crossing the road?

What is your motivation to survive?

Well, Monica’s motivation is me. And I am the only reason she is cautious.

She looks over shoulder at every turn because of me.

Monica doesn’t make it through her day without thinking about me.

I am the reason she fights for survival.

“Monica, get up,” she hears the sound, but it doesn’t rouse her enough, “Monica, get up now!” Her mother comes into her room for the third attempt, “Monica, now please.” Her mother says sternly; Monica begins to stir, turning to hide her head under the pillow. “Monica, so help me God, get your ass up.”

“Okay, I’m up, I’m up.” Her mother left, leaving Monica with her thoughts.

Now, this is the moment where you may be thinking, ‘poor girl she’s just tired, she’s young.’ For Monica this is the first part of survival. She has to get up and start her day, but I stop her.

Monica pushes herself up, slowly sitting on the edge of her bed. Gingerly, she puts her feet on the floor, she can feel the tiles, like ice on the bottom of her feet. Her toes begin to tingle with the sharp, biting coolness of the tiles. Monica reaches for her slippers, slipping them on her feet, concealing them from the cool air. She stretches, feeling her joints click, her muscles protesting to movement. She can feel her body adjusting to the new day, as she tries to push herself up. Feeling weak, Monica falls back down onto her bed. Trying to catch her breath, she adjusts her grip and attempts once again to get to her feet. This time, with a great energy expense Monica stands slowly.  She holds onto her cabinet for support and hesitantly makes her way out of her bedroom.

I know what you’re thinking.

Monica doesn’t seem to be surviving. She seems weak, frail, is she even putting in effort? Just watch how she survives.

Monica makes her way to the bathroom. Shutting herself in, she studies herself in the mirror. She takes inventory of what she sees. Dark circles under her eyes, the shallowness of her cheeks and the pale complexion of her skin. She gets sad by looking at how she has changed, how her face is weathered. But every line on her face tells a story, of where she come from, every day of her life leaves a mark on her, this is what she is studying now. The sight of them makes her sad, but makes her stronger. Taking a deep breath, she leaves the bathroom.

I know what you’re thinking, how could I take away all these things from this young girl? How can I live with myself knowing what I have taken away well, all I will say to you is, someone’s got to be the bad guy.

Everyone has to go through bad times to get stronger, to learn how to survive.

I guess that would make me a teacher. I teach people how to be strong. I teach them how to survive. To learn how their bodies work, and what makes them weak.

Now, let’s find out what Monica has learnt.

Cautiously, Monica makes her way downstairs. Taking one step at a time, Monica slowly gets into the kitchen.

“Morning honey, here.” Monica takes what her mother gives her. Hating that she has to take these. She doesn’t even know if they help, is all of this pointless? Monica sits at the table; she can feel her lungs aching from breathing heavily. Monica used to run track, swim and other sporting activities, now she can barely make it down the stairs.

So, what has Monica learnt? She’s learnt, among other things, that you have to change your habits, your likes and dislikes, your hobbies, all in the name of survival.

 “You have an appointment today, go get ready and we’ll go.” Monica nods and gets up going back to her room. She looks up the stairs knowing what’s coming. She is going to get half way and have to sit down. She’ll rest for a few minutes before she can get up. She won’t be able to breathe and, when she finally gets to the top, she will fall down and sit at the top of the stairs. She won’t be able to move for several minutes. She will crawl to her bedroom; she doesn’t want to face the despair of having to get up. Monica closes her door behind her, sits against it, tears begin to stream down her face. Thoughts cross her mind. Is all of this pain worth it? She asks herself.

Survival isn’t just about yourself.

What about Monica’s mother that she left downstairs?

The appointment that Monica has, the doctor will tell her that she has no chance of surviving. They will tell her that I am winning. Monica will look at her dark, short future ahead of her and wonder, was any of the last year any point? Was all of the pain she went through worth it?

What about her friends and family?

Was Monica trying to survive worth it?

Looking at their faces, I wouldn’t say so but then, I am the one who caused all of this.

I am the one destroying Monica’s body.

I am the strongest in this survival of the fittest.

I could hit anyone, at any time, you have to be on watch, be aware, because you never know when you’re going to need to survive me.

And that means, if you want to beat me, you have to be stronger.

Survival of The Fittest

There is a time and place for everything, for everyone.

Like a flame dancing in the air, anything can be doused by the smallest of actions. By a cover that takes away the oxygen, the fuel of the flame, of life.

Nothing is concrete. Everything must change and adapt because, after all is said and done, life is all about surviving.

Survival of the fittest is an ancient theory. Only the best will survive the pack, so I decided to be the best. Because a life, is no life at all, if you don’t survive.

Let me ask you, do you think you are the best? Do you think that above anyone else you would survive? I’m not just talking about a life or death situation; adrenaline kicks in making you stronger. I’m talking about your day, getting up, getting ready, going to work, coming home. What parts of your day do you think involve surviving? Nothing. Everything.

Now, I want you to think about why you survive.

Why are you cautious while crossing the road?

What is your motivation to survive?

Well, Monica’s motivation is me. And I am the only reason she is cautious.

She looks over shoulder at every turn because of me.

Monica doesn’t make it through her day without thinking about me.

I am the reason she fights for survival.

“Monica, get up,” she hears the sound, but it doesn’t rouse her enough, “Monica, get up now!” Her mother comes into her room for the third attempt, “Monica, now please.” Her mother says sternly; Monica begins to stir, turning to hide her head under the pillow. “Monica, so help me God, get your ass up.”

“Okay, I’m up, I’m up.” Her mother left, leaving Monica with her thoughts.

Now, this is the moment where you may be thinking, ‘poor girl she’s just tired, she’s young.’ For Monica this is the first part of survival. She has to get up and start her day, but I stop her.

Monica pushes herself up, slowly sitting on the edge of her bed. Gingerly, she puts her feet on the floor, she can feel the tiles, like ice on the bottom of her feet. Her toes begin to tingle with the sharp, biting coolness of the tiles. Monica reaches for her slippers, slipping them on her feet, concealing them from the cool air. She stretches, feeling her joints click, her muscles protesting to movement. She can feel her body adjusting to the new day, as she tries to push herself up. Feeling weak, Monica falls back down onto her bed. Trying to catch her breath, she adjusts her grip and attempts once again to get to her feet. This time, with a great energy expense Monica stands slowly.  She holds onto her cabinet for support and hesitantly makes her way out of her bedroom.

 

 

 

 

I know what you’re thinking.

Monica doesn’t seem to be surviving. She seems weak, frail, is she even putting in effort? Just watch how she survives.

Monica makes her way to the bathroom. Shutting herself in, she studies herself in the mirror. She takes inventory of what she sees. Dark circles under her eyes, the shallowness of her cheeks and the pale complexion of her skin. She gets sad by looking at how she has changed, how her face is weathered. But every line on her face tells a story, of where she come from, every day of her life leaves a mark on her, this is what she is studying now. The sight of them makes her sad, but makes her stronger. Taking a deep breath, she leaves the bathroom.

I know what you’re thinking, how could I take away all these things from this young girl? How can I live with myself knowing what I have taken away well, all I will say to you is, someone’s got to be the bad guy.

Everyone has to go through bad times to get stronger, to learn how to survive.

I guess that would make me a teacher. I teach people how to be strong. I teach them how to survive. To learn how their bodies work, and what makes them weak.

Now, let’s find out what Monica has learnt.

Cautiously, Monica makes her way downstairs. Taking one step at a time, Monica slowly gets into the kitchen.

“Morning honey, here.” Monica takes what her mother gives her. Hating that she has to take these. She doesn’t even know if they help, is all of this pointless? Monica sits at the table; she can feel her lungs aching from breathing heavily. Monica used to run track, swim and other sporting activities, now she can barely make it down the stairs.

So, what has Monica learnt? She’s learnt, among other things, that you have to change your habits, your likes and dislikes, your hobbies, all in the name of survival.

 “You have an appointment today, go get ready and we’ll go.” Monica nods and gets up going back to her room. She looks up the stairs knowing what’s coming. She is going to get half way and have to sit down. She’ll rest for a few minutes before she can get up. She won’t be able to breathe and, when she finally gets to the top, she will fall down and sit at the top of the stairs. She won’t be able to move for several minutes. She will crawl to her bedroom; she doesn’t want to face the despair of having to get up. Monica closes her door behind her, sits against it, tears begin to stream down her face. Thoughts cross her mind. Is all of this pain worth it? She asks herself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Survival isn’t just about yourself.

What about Monica’s mother that she left downstairs?

The appointment that Monica has, the doctor will tell her that she has no chance of surviving. They will tell her that I am winning. Monica will look at her dark, short future ahead of her and wonder, was any of the last year any point? Was all of the pain she went through worth it?

What about her friends and family?

Was Monica trying to survive worth it?

Looking at their faces, I wouldn’t say so but then, I am the one who caused all of this.

I am the one destroying Monica’s body.

I am the strongest in this survival of the fittest.

I could hit anyone, at any time, you have to be on watch, be aware, because you never know when you’re going to need to survive me.

And that means, if you want to beat me, you have to be stronger.

 


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