3 People

English 12 ADV
7 September 2010
The Memories of Description
To think of J brings a torrent of subdued memories. Perhaps it was that hell I was subjected to as a young one that now causes my overwhelming joy having matured some. J was the last person to bully me. Throughout elementary school and all the way up until sophomore year, I was mistreated, insulted, and put down. The high school bus was the place of my incessant torture. The older kids always taunted me; to such an extent would cause tears. But through years of endurance, I finally learned to be strong enough to stand for myself.
J had just entered the bus. After her taunting me one more time, I lashed out from my confused state I had lived most of my life in and hit her. She hit me, but I hit her again, and that seemed to settle it. Neither of us talked anymore, and it was much for the better. But that was the first time I had stood up for myself and gained respect from it. Unfortunately I had to resort to a small violent act, and have not had to since, but the gained satisfaction of self respect was worth a sore head.
Ahhh, T. That girl drives me wild. When we are around each other, everyday events do not seem to apply. She is a dreamer, my dreamer. Every time I thought of her, I knew that I would never end up normal and the world would be so much better for it. We would tell stories of how the ocean shore would be our home, how we would have lots of children running around our house that seemed to be built in every architectural style, and how our beloved children would be taught by the sea.
The first time the coast brought us to it, we both felt much pain over a boy. But T and I learned of love and silence, the kind that brings you back down to Earth. The kind I brought home with, me the complete silence and the knowledge could live on my own again, not knowing, but inherently being a creature that needed nothing to live save some essential items. She was the creation.
This brings us to G, if there were to be a woman of grace and eloquence I knew before having met T it was she. When I was a mere 10 years old, G gave the world to me. She taught me to question the world, that a book that some of faith hold to be the holy truth was merely a book of fables. She taught me to question the world, not accept the world as it is, to read, of the moon and stars she taught me, what was written in my future, and what of the galaxies were to be. Everything she taught a girl needed to grow up in one afternoon, then gave me a golden ring with Sapphire and Diamond colored stones fitting perfectly the finger she intended.
Of all of what she taught me, much still applies. But the lesson she inadvertently gave was that of self-thinking. When she gave me the information, how to act and respond, I will sometimes second guess. She has given me the correct answers to the questions she was faced with, but I am faced with them in a different way. Admittedly it is fifty years later than when her questions were being asked, and she has many times saved me from dooming my future. But the gift of thinking for myself is always abundant in my thoughts.

(I failed this assignment because there was not enough description.)