Show and Tell

Sometimes in life when emotional turmoil is on the rise and self-esteem and happiness are in a recession, I slowly tilt my head back, and in my mind I scream. I scream for help, for love, and for a break from the overwhelming pressures day to day. I scream, oh Lord do I scream. I scream until my mind aches.
And as my knees buckle and I drop down into a position of humility, humbling myself in front of the almighty God, I pray to him. I ask him to share with me. I ask him to share a little insight into this pitiful insert into humanity we call my life. I ask him to show me that I have a purpose, a reason to go on; I ask him to tell me why we spend our whole lives preparing for the future, always getting ready for what’s to come, never taking the time to realize that there may not be a tomorrow.
That when it comes right down to your corpse being placed in a decorative pine box and being lowered into the ground while your family cries at your demise; it doesn’t matter how much you made an hour, nor does it matter how fancy your car. Because once that final shovel full of dirt is patted down under the boot of a local gravedigger your material wealth is soon forgotten. Only those who live for today and take a little time to notice the simpler things; it is those who touch lives and enlighten spirits that are long remembered.
And as the tears begin to roll down my cheeks I realize that I am just as guilty as the rest of you, worrying about getting this or having that, and while doing so I often put down the less fortunate, as we all have done at one time or other. And as the tears pour and emotion becomes overwhelming, I realize that these simpler things are the finer things in life. I realize that we should all strive for emotional richness, for it is this and not material wealth that that will make for a happy life and leave you long remembered. And for each tear I see a mistake I’ve made or a person I’ve wronged and I see things I need to change and things I know I will.
And as I regain control of my feelings, I wipe away those tears and rise once again to my feet. And as I walk past my classmates and shake hands, slap five, maybe nod and crack a fake smile, I walk out into the hallway and pass a few more acquaintances. I somehow notice how superficial many of them are. And as I leave my school and ride my ride on the yellow shuttle we mortals call a bus, I think. And once I reach the quaint brown house in the woods, which is my destination, my home, I think. And when I sit down in my father’s comfortable blue Lay-Z-Boy, I think. And then I take my notebook and as my pencil explodes into the fireworks of a thousand words and a million syllables, I find freedom.

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