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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
No one truly knows the thoughts of a teenage girl. Everyone thinks that they're just an open book. However, knowing their name isn't knowing their story. Nameless, this female is suffering from a disease that only effects the mind, soul and heart and there is no cure. No way out.

Submitted: February 20, 2011

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Submitted: February 20, 2011





-the over whelming urge to runaway

Was it possible to be Drapetomanic? To have this anomalous urge to run and keep running from everything, from anything? She considered herself as Drapetomanic, always reminded herself she was suffering from this cureless state of mind. People would question her about it: What did it mean? How did she get it? Be that as it may, this wasn't a disease that affected the body physically, but a disease that effects the soul and darkens it. Of course she had no patience to explain this to them, their ignorance was to overwhelming for her to handle to the point where it agitate her. They already knew all there was to know about her, why bother with anything else? Frankly, she had nothing to live for, no one to live for; walking and talking was an automatic gesture, that came to her without thinking. She was an expert at that, not thinking I mean; because to her thinking led to caring, which led to loving which led to pain, lies, tears, blood and broken hearts. All of which she knew a little to well. Misery was her only companion.

What did running away mean to her? It symbolized humanity to her; it meant running from her family, her acquaintances, from all the people she knew, even the people she didn’t. Running from faith, hope, love, destiny, and from that one and only person who made her feel special; that she cared for, loved. Ironically, this was the same individual who made her shad tears every night, made her heart bleed out for his undying love that unmistakably did die.

Her life was a bundle of ill-fated events all sewed together and polished with a little dignity and a pinch of humor. I mean, that's all life is, funny. Just a parcel of bad jokes edited and glamorized, to make the human race side tracked, while a tragedy-named destiny-was being perfected. Only to kill off those who were weak and leave those whom were strong behind to feed for themselves. She wasn’t weak nor strong, just a lifeless doll with a functioning brain. She barley ate anymore, didn’t bother to.Only when her parents were around did she bit into the blood red apple that sat sturdy on the table; only when someone was looking did she drink water. She gave up, there is nothing else to it.

The greatest calamity of all, because on a sunny, bright May morning her oblivious mother walked into her daughter's room. Only to find her daughter on the floor, motionless-covered in crimson-drowned in her own blood. What a sight for a mother. Seeing your own child dead, in your own household, built with love and laughter. The girl found a way to run from her Drapetomania, she found the easy way out. Only to allow misery to get the best of her. In this chronicle of unfortunate events the most catastrophic thing, wasn't the fact that she was running away from loved ones, love, faith and hope, but indeed the fact that she was running away from herself.

© Copyright 2019 Yamram. All rights reserved.

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