People, by and large, grow rotten by condemnations, by infinitesimal degrees. But I allow much of humanity's greatness to run away from me in a heated moment, as if I had dropped a gambler’s cloak. From small actions of wrongness, I passed, in one leaping step, into the worst evil I have ever known. Listen, please, as I retell the one cause that made everything terrible happen. My passing is close at hand, and its arrival has now placated my hardened soul. I desire, in passing thru this sunless wilderness, the understanding of others. I want for all of you to perceive that I have been, in many approaches, within the steady finite grip of forces beyond anyone's control. I wish for these aspects to figure me out, in the tale I am about to relay unto you, some atomic degree which provides that I could have done only as I had done.
It brings me bliss to think about my very first school, (straight from my brother’s studies and my parents,) as much bliss, maybe, as I am now capable of experiencing. Miserably stewed in affliction as I am—afflictions so vivid, perhaps no one shall disapprove or balk at me if, for a bit, I dismiss my suffering and reveal a little about this convivial epoch. Also, the epoch and place are significant. It was then and there that I first envisioned, looming upon me imminently, the most dreadful promise of what was to unfold. Let me remember.
The dormitories where we girls lived and went to school was very old, as well as wide. The campus about it was substantial, and there was a colossal rampart enclosing the outermost grounds of the entire school. Beyond this rampart, we ventured twice in each week, once to take short social walks in the neighboring fields, and once on Sunday to go to chapel. This was the one chapel in the village, and the head-principal of our school was also the leader of the services. With a reaction close to rapt wonder and of suspense, I used to watch him speak! This man, with easy gait and reserved, thoughtful expressions, in clothing so very different than his usual, and utterly clean dressing style. Would this be the very same person who, with a rigid face and dirty, disheveled collars, stood, ready to lunge at us if we did not follow the school’s principles and guidelines? O, profound and moving epoch, beyond my small power to repay! Thus I passed my years from fifteen to eighteen.
And in any case, I was disparate indeed from most of the other girls. Although few of us can verily recall youth, my younger days still appear to me plain as a bell, as if they had been strewn in ornaments. Truth be told, the angry resentment of my character and my ambitions to leadership and powers above the normal control soon separated me from the others. Slowly, I gained a certain priority over all who were not much older than myself.
This greatly pleased my spirit. I tried to make the others think that I didn’t care about being the “advanced protagonist". The truth was that this campus and its knowledge of me was all I had to struggle for. I had to fight to appear better than a mere equivalent, always twenty paces ahead, letting no one else learn how to make me a cheap mimicry; indeed, I felt some love for teachers, like Mrs. Treaker with her long ovoid office in the farthest corner of the main schoolroom, long white tresses and a curvy smile, but never for my peers. It seemed a strange and beautiful thing that no one could hold me back.
Fifty years from then, I pen this script, that I could maintain a function equal to civilization if not barely less than equal. My drooping eyes are heavy, looking this way and that for some sign, some signal, that not all was lost.
Nowadays, 'tis the meaning of lifelike failure, somewhat like anarchy in the brain, for I haven’t accomplished much since after my young and blissful horizons. Nothing supersedes me in any way, and I can’t help but think if I had at least seemed to feel some love for another person, a male in mind, I would be less alone and at fault than I am now. Even after my trivial years at Harvard, I had a battle broiling in my chest over my brother’s wedding, although a widower now. I wasn’t searching for anyone in the past; it all felt so wondrous to be a loner, an academic. Some classmates, even my late parents, had arguments to place upon me routinely. I always had to prove the stronger of us, and in my defensive streak, it was generally ruled that I won. Every so often, I would presume if my colleagues and I had met at another time, we could grow to be friends.
It is not easy to say this; no, not at all! I have no friends. No one would or did befriend me. Everyone seems to leave me behind, in their happy less-bookish ways. Meteorites could smash into my building, and destroy my physical soul, yet my wish would have been to’ve died in such a phantasmagorical explosion. I can look outside my grimy window now. Silence, the never-ending orbit, a world turning without me in it soon. A train blowing hot airs in the middle of the dawn. Alas, the best words can bedazzle the mind and confuse a generation, and even though my plans were well-crafted, they confuse me just as often as it makes others irate with me. Every bit of learned teachings and even then, my own silent footsteps cannot comfort me as I head to my bedside.
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