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Join Date: 2002-11-15 Member: 8697Members
Join Date: 2002-11-15 Member: 8697Members
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<b>The Day That Everything Became Hollow</b> Andrew E White
9/30
Someone once told me that innocence never dies, it just fades away until it is very small. If that person had lived my life, he/she would have never had said such a stupid thing. If you think about it, a majority of the population manages to maintain their innocence, not by any actions that they take but rather by the sheer stupidity of society. I don't know how they manage something like that, especially in a society such as the one we have right now but I envy them. I truly do envy them, for my innocence died before I turned 10. I know what some of you might be thinking, "oh another rant by Andrew against the world and life in general." Well, it is and it isn't. Some of the things I'm going to say (well, write is the correct term) are very personal and thusly should not be taken lightly.
It was a crisp morning, sometime in the middle of Summer vacation. Every detail of that morning is perfectly cemented in my mind. As I was saying, it was a crisp morning, because me and my step-sister Lizzie were sharing the bunk beds and we both had on comforters. I was wearing my standard pajama's, which were flannel pants, underwear and a t-shirt. Lizzie was wearing one of those big shirts, the ones that stand from neck to knee's. It was only five or six o'clock AM when my mother burst into the room.The image of her clothing has faded, but she was fully dressed. Her words were rushed and panicky, "Emily is sick, with pneumonia. We're taking her to the hospital. One of the neighbors will be by to take care of you guys and take you down to the hospital in a little while.". I remember every word with crystal clarity. Everything about what she said seemed wrong. Now, for the uninformed, Emily was my sister. She was born in New York City, a bawling little infant. She was only 3 years old, fond of Barney and making fun of me because I was her "bigbutha". Back to the story. The next few hours passed slowly, as if I was living in the Matrix in slow-mo all the time. I remember next to nothing of those hours, at least nothing that I can recall these many years later. The time passed eventually, so around 11 o'clock the neighbor who had come over (Maurice, a very nice French-Canadian woman who was living in the States with her husband and son) took me and Lizzie to the hospital. Having never been in Fletcher Allen before, I have no idea as to where I was going. My step-father Tom met me and Lizzie at the Ambulance Bay entrance. When your nine-ten years old, you never figure out how big things like that are. You never really figure out that if you go in the ambulance bay it's bad...very bad. So me and Lizzie get led through a maze of sterile corridors, through what seems like miles and miles of corridors to this one little room. My mother is kneeling in front of the bed in that room, so I can't see what's on it at first. You know those first few seconds of intense anticipation? Those seconds where the world seems to slow down and you think everything is going to turn out right? In the instant my mother moved, I prayed (to myself) to God, Yahweh, Allah, any god, that everything was good, that it was a joke or something. My mother shifted out of the way and I lost all faith. Emily was laying on the bed, her skin slightly blue, wrapped in a hospital blanket. She didn't move at all, not even the re-assuring rise and fall of her tiny chest to show a sign of life. Nothing. The next few words my mother said burned me deep. "Andrew, Lizzie...Emily is dead.". Everything sort of fades after that, which is a sign of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The only thing I remember is crying, when I hadn't cried since I was an infant.
You might be wondering why this is something put in a narrative paper? It's because that is the EXACT moment in which I lost all Faith. It was the crucible that pushed me over the edge and turned me into a cold stone. I had always heard stories of, "God is merciful, God is great, God is kind, God shall save.". Before Emily's death, I would have been apt to believe stuff like that, the tales of "Gods Mercy". Afterwards...I was dead to the world of religion. Any higher power that lets a three-year old die wasn't worth listening to. Any deity that wants to hold close someone so innocent, so young, they can go to hell. One of my mothers friends told my family, "God wanted to hold Emily close to him, so he chose to take her into his mercy and into heaven." Never before had I wanted to kill someone so much. I was close to literally getting a sharp knife from the kitchen and killing the person. Years later, when my mother reminded me of the person, I seethed with such a hate that I thought I would tear the world apart.
What does all of this have to do with innocence? In my life, I had always viewed myself as innocent, unknowing of the greater evils of the world. When Emily died and I lost faith, I stopped feeling. The innocence in me didn't just fade, it died as if it was stabbed to death by needles. When you walk through the world not really feeling anything, you start to get a jaded view of life. I existed without emotion for almost 9 years, and at times I still think that I exist without them, mouthing only empty nothings when I say "I love you.". When you exist without emotion, the world takes on a completely different connotation.
The moral of the story...something every story, true or not, sad or not, morose or not should have. My moral is that you can't go through life as a hollow shell. Even if it hurts, you have to reach into the flames and get burned just so you can say that you felt something. You have to treasure every day, every minute, every second with vitality. Don't walk through life as an emtpy, hollow shell.
That does not mean it is not a bad paper, its actually very good as you describe the event and how you felt through it, and you describe how the event has affected you and who you are. Other than a few grammatical errors that can be fixed easily enough, its a very good paper.
And although our feelings are not the same, as we are different people with different experiences, I know how it feels to not have any faith. Although I don't tend to cherish life as I should; I realize that what life we have is very precious and should be enjoyed as long as possible, I tend to have a more cynical and morbid view on it all. I also must admit that I don't see any innocence in anything; The very moment we are born, the very moment we are exposed to the world we live in, we are corrupted by ideas and pullutions and the grime that most of humanity has become.
Feels slightly aggressive but considering the subject matter it's hardly surprising.
~hug~