Vices

  Chapter 1

  When I was younger, I used to walk through the park and gaze at the simplicity of nature. It was a friend that would wrap its arms around me, keeping me safe and blanketing me with peace, and it was a sanctum I thought would forever be with me.  Something about nature always made me feel as though I was at home, like I couldn’t be unjustly judged or hurt. It was like being wrapped in a cocoon of green; it was my sanctuary. The way the grass swayed in the company of the wind, and how the trees would reach their branches out with a gentleness no human could match.

  As the wind whistled through the leaves of the trees, if you listened hard enough, you could hear the trees speaking to each other. I loved the park and the untold secrets it had, but was willing to share with anyone that would listen.  Nature doesn’t hold grudges, and nature does not evaluate how human and decent you are. It does not choose whether you live or die based on where you live, what race you are, or what religion you choose to follow. It is completely unbiased. Nature is the world’s playground, and when I was young, I knew nothing of a world that had no hope, that had no freedom.  I knew only of a world that had open arms and endless opportunities, a world that would exist long after I passed away, and even long after my children’s children walked the earth.

  I held onto the preconceived notion that this world was going to stay promising and free, but there were those who thought only of the destruction of this world, and the creation of a new world, with no opportunity, with no love, with no freedom. Only granting power to the few who thought they deserved the right to rule the people and who craved to indulge themselves with whatever they pleased. They held no regard for us or for what we wanted, or even what we needed for that matter.

  It’s not human to kill billions of people. Some say that war is natural, but purging the earth of its rightful inhabitants is very unnatural. I remember when I could walk down the streets and see people. Watch as children tried not to step on cracks. Watch the businesswomen scurry around, rushing to make a deadline that would allow them the raise they desperately wished for. Watch the teenagers saunter around like they were invincible; laughing at things adults wouldn’t even smile at.

  I miss that world.

  I was sixteen years old when the fabric of my reality was torn into shreds.  I was in the stage of my life where I felt invincible; like I would make all of my dreams come true.  All I thought I would have to worry about in my future was if I wanted my husband to be blonde or brunette, and if my house was going to be blue or green. Things were simple. My dreams were simple. My dreams did not include survival.

  Back then, I thought of how I would become a successful artist, or maybe write for the newspaper. Even then, I had a love for the truth-- finding it, knowing it, and spreading it. I could hardly stand listening to my friends’ gossip and spread rumors about girls. Even if the girls they spoke of weren’t too kind or had little to no self-respect, I couldn’t help but feel like they shouldn’t speak poorly of them. We can’t see into each other’s minds; we cannot understand others we hardly know.

  My thoughts always wandered to if they spoke of me poorly behind my back, and if they really liked me as much as they said they did. Having taken part in gossip was a great way for people to break my trust, and when my trust is broken, it’s not easily built up again.

  I felt as though people focused too much on the negative. They never smiled at one another just to smile. They took for granted the sun and the sky. They stopped paying attention to the blue birds and the scurrying squirrels. When they heard countless tragic stories of death, they mourned and prayed. They thought nothing of their child’s 12th birthday or their spouse’s newly earned degree. They only thought of the negative and of themselves.

  The news told stories of hate and despair and the people told lies of one another. If only they would’ve opened their eyes and fought through the fog that had accumulated in front of their eyes; they could’ve put a stop to the hate, and to the growing sense of superiority to one another. Why couldn’t we just try to understand one another? But instead, like so many times throughout history, they continued on being herded like sheep by the cunning, power-hungry shepherd.