literature

Sofia (Working Title)

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Literature Text

Intro

My name is Sofia Grace Price, and I am pansexual.

If you are religious, what follows will offend you so much more than my first statement, so I strongly suggest that you find something else entirely to read. This will piss you off and offend you, and I really don't feel like listening to the word of Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. I've heard it all before, and I'm just not interested. Here's the door.

                           ***Insert picture of door here***

                                      Good day.


For the rest of you, welcome to my corner of this obscure and twisted universe. I hope you enjoy your stay.







Prologue

Has no one ever told you
you're beautiful?
An organized chaos
runs through your veins
an unholy sort of pain
is shown on your face
but underneath all your shells
lies a beautiful (yet tragic)
watercolor stain.
Crimson on the edges,
where your passion lies,
pink just inside it,
to show your softer side.
Purple splatters where bruises could not heal,
and your childhood memories
are all droplets of teal.
In the very centre,
where your beating heart should be,
is a black labyrinth of confusion,
but it is not there
without its silver lining.
Everything, in fact,
seems perfectly wonderful to me.
How prettily the colors move together
on this artwork that lives and breathes...



     I used to be shy, quiet, and socially feeble. Anyone who knows me now laughs at that thought, but those who've known me from the beginning know the truth of it, almost too well. While I seem to have trouble shutting up these days, I used to be a quiet, well-behaved little girl with quiet, well-behaved dreams. I obeyed my parents and helped raise my siblings when times got really tough, even at a very young age.  I loved school in the same way a Christian loves God; I worshipped knowledge and felt so at home sitting in class all day, absorbing and deliberating all of the wonderful and fascinating things I could possibly learn from my teachers and textbooks. I was also respectful and courteous, which meant I was also branded a "teachers' pet" for years, thus making it difficult to make friends. So, it really didn't matter how quiet and socially awkward I was, as I had very few friends. I did, however, have a friend in art, but we'll get to that later. Looking back, I've come to the conclusion that the reason why I was so immersed in my own sweet and silent detachment is a combination of a few things. My father was a violent and erratic alcoholic, my mother was emotionally inaccessible, and I had been sexually abused by someone I had trusted as a young and helpless child. These are not excuses, they are reality, and each shaped a different part of me and prepared me to defend my being and that of others.
Just testing out a new intro and prologue to a new story. *Hopefully* I can get somewhere with this one.

Please, any and all feedback would be very greatly appreciated.
© 2012 - 2024 anisia-gypsy
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