Am I just a girl?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
What are we? That is the question. This is just a little paragraph I thought up today. It was something that was on my mind.

Submitted: September 02, 2012

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Submitted: September 02, 2012

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I am a girl. Just a meek, vulnerable girl hiding amongst the shadows of disbelief.  It is the doubt that scorns me, that reaches around my body, mocking its very existence. I am not strange.  Not even an ounce of peculiar inside me. I am just a girl, as ordinary as can be.  At least this is what I hope to see every time, I prop my head against the crystalized marble countertop and stare straight at my own eyes. Mirrors don’t lie, do they? The locks of chocolate brown hair that grace my head, are not deceptions, are they? They are reality, I tell myself. There is no one who could truly answer this question; there is no one who actually understands, who can recollect the real nature of human existence. I would say that this thought process is my very own bane of existence. Constantly, periodically, almost like clockwork, I sit; staring, watching, even gaping at my own reflection, and wonder who am I? Am I truly just a person or something more, something more magical, with more power, maybe I am a god. Am I the god who roams the skies, reaching into everyone’s souls, fine tuning broken amends? Am I the one who answers or merely just listens to peoples prayers? Oh no, god forbid. I could never do such a thing. I surely do not have such powers; I surely cannot glide in the mist of air, or look into anyone’s hearts for that matter. We cannot question such things, as we do not know who or what we are. Rather, we need to think of ourselves as clouds. Three colors at one time, black, grey and white, we are all very different but very peculiarly the same. The same organs, the same thoughts, but just different ingredients.


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