Spero

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Hello, this is the perspective of Elliot Spero, a perturbed, yet exceedingly intellectual human. He thrives for the greatness of the world, wanting to accentuate the love and positivity, but is constantly burdened with his sorrowful past. Spero displays the difficulties Elliot has/will encounter throughout his existence.

Table of Contents

Introduction

Submitted: September 05, 2016

I awoke on my sixteenth birthday, sensing the sensation of heat lingering throughout my bedroom. The humidity, deteriorating my walls pre... Read Chapter

The Conundrum

Submitted: September 06, 2016

- “Elliot, what’s wrong?” asked Dr. Tromperie with vast inquisitiveness as she stared into my stagnant glare.
As the question echoed throughout my subconscious, began the anger, the frustration. What the hell do you mean, what is wrong! Murderers on every corner, in the presence of pedophiles, or our leader, the one to give a sense of peace, yet leads his country into disparity. We all praised Steve Jobs when we were conscious of his sins, earning billions from the hands of the innocent; Obama putting his own citizens into bankruptcy; brainwashing seminars in the form of media, dictating our existence. What’s vanquishing is that we voted for this, not with our rigged elections, giving us an illusion of liberation, but with our money. Hey, none of this information is new; we, as a country, are cognizant of the horror occurring, yet we’re cowards, wanting to be sedated from the pain. Multi-billion dollar films don’t make us joyful, nor does faking social media intimacy. The entirety of our census, including me, stands by, perceiving the destruction our counterfeit heroes have generated.
- Deliberately, I gave a sense of coyness to my speech and replied, “nothing.”
Lucid, yet perfunctory, keeping my invisible cloak of anxiety incognito.
- “Elliot…please, I’m begging, keeping your life bottled inside your mental space is extremely unhealthy, said Ms. Tromperie.
- “You’re homogeneous to the majority, nagging and nagging, wishing to hear my frivolous input; we’re both cognizant of why I’m here! I’m content with my existence.”
Well, that previous statement was a fib; it’s very prominent I’m not, right? I can perceive our mutual discomfort with life, aspiring, thriving for greatness. Greatness in a sense of peace, not eminence. Her hands are quivering exponentially, eyes have a glare of the need for aid, clinched fists; I can feel the empathy radiating.
- I rested my large hands onto her petite pale fists and said, “Ms. Tromperie, I know this three syllable, conventional phrase will have no value, but I feel as if I am dictated to; I am sorry.”
- “Wow, Elliot, why are you apologizing?” she questioned in astonishment.
- “You and I are similar, yet diverse. Can I presume you’re familiar with the path of despair?”
- Ms. Tromperie replied with her eyes secured, “Elliot…”
Now blatant, she too is furnished with the familiarity of despair. This path of pondering the great is sorrowful, full of solitude.
- “Elliot, enlighten me with your path,” dictated Ms. Tromperie
- “Well, my existence is lucid, unfulfilling.”
- Ms. Tromperie stated exasperated, “Your proficient in most fields, exceedingly intelligent; what’s unfulfilling? I know your past, the demise of your fam…”
- “Shut up.”
Why is this being brought to surface now? I attempt to shut my mouth, yet I’m crucified for enjoying the presence of silence.
- “Elliot, the records are public. I am merely reiterating information,” Ms. Tromperie said.
- “Shut up, you’re irrelevant to the regard of my family.”
- Ms. Tromperie stated sympathetically, “I apologize if I was intrusive or insensitive, but you have to perceive my perspective; I want to aid, Elliot, which involves speaking of your dark past, your family.
- “Okay, you want me to reminisce that night? My beautiful mother and father, Lily and Wilson, had foes, entities who desired their death. With that being stated, Inevitably, they struck with the intent to perceive our demise. I would presume they were incognizant of the children, my younger brother and I; I attempted to rescue Lucas before the eruption of fire.”
My family, Lily, Wilson and Jacob, were great people! They constantly radiated optimism, which I would assume disturbed the sinister. Why? WHY! Why must I be dictated to sever my bonds with the ones I care dearly for? Mom, Dad, Brother, I love you.
- As the silence continued, I asked, “Are you content?”
- Ms. Tromperie bellowed, “Elliot, I did not intend to harm; it was a mere question with intent on helping, not maltreat. I care for you; I care for your well-being and aspire for your happiness.”
This constant intrusion into my subconscious is absurd; I am in dire need of an intermission. This conversation, well, life, coming to an abrupt halt is now essential, ya know?
- Ms. Tromperie said abruptly, delivering closure to the current silence, “You need to grow accustomed to new habits, Elliot. Living in fear, anxiety, terror; it’s unhealthy and absurd. Let me help you, please, just accept the offer.”
*BEEP *BEEP *BEEP
- “I apologize, for I now have to exit.”
- “Ell…” she said
I leisurely secured the door to its initial position and exited the room. Roaming through each sector, witnessing the discussion of sins (sins in the perspective of the upper class one percent, diversity.) Eventually, I reached my destination, the waiting room, and delightfully vacated this intrusive palace of ignorance.
***
Some hero’s truly do not wear capes, right? An alarm clock rescuing me from the confinement of verbal abuse. Well, this day of birth has been splendid, I guess, haha. Lily, Wilson, Lucas, I thank you for delivering a sense of positivity. The beautiful thoughts of my past family evaporated as the Dodge Caravan came into perception. Wheels squealing, door hinges deteriorating; I oddly entered the machine that had high probability of causing my premature demise. With the sinister thoughts diminishing, we ventured to the chateau of bleakness, where I could excessively analyze the existence of Severus Snape.

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