Georgia+Newton+Short+Story

// __The Anniversary __ // Georgia Newton Ms. Lawless  I wish individuality was common place. The complexity of uniqueness should be taken for granted, and used so much that being unique can be what makes you blend in. There should always be yellow raincoats among the black, randomly selected red walls among the white, and a brilliant mind among the feeble.  I do not try to be different. In fact, I must be one of the most conformist individuals I have ever come by. I dress, walk, talk, fantasize, fear and love as much as others do. I walk among the same path as everyone, but every day I am still ostracised by the judgments people make upon what I look like.  What if they knew it was only an accident? It's an impossibly hard story to comprehend for your everyday person, as words aren't enough to describe the terrifying and horrific consequences that happened on that winter night, 6 years ago. When the memory recalls itself, there are vivid flashes of red, black and fear.  Today is a sort of anniversary to me. Others would scoff and pass over if I was ever to tell, but it means something to me, and that's what matters. But there are no others to notice and the world just goes on around me, as if it never happened. The posters on the wall strive for the attention of my eyes, as the sounds of hurried families battle my ears for serenity. The smell of an early morning breakfast hangs in the air, and I watch as the pedestrian lights turn green, bringing another wave of people into this already cramped place. My hands feel numb as I rub them together in an attempt to warm myself up. Business goes on as usual, but the smile that lightens my face is unusually tight today.  I see a face wince, as I hand over the order requested of me. The avoidance of hand contact when they hesitantly accepted used to make me tear up, but now it affects me as much as the man who sits across the street and begs for money. I ignore the little boy pointing in my direction, and only stare blankly at the woman who ushers a group of teenagers out, who are always in here snickering in my direction. I hand over the next order.  Sometimes I put myself in their shoes, just to imagine what it would feel like to be someone else. I would feel less like a freak, and more like a small part of a society that takes pride in the perfection we call the human race. I could continue on with my daily life, without a care in the world and not having to worry about comments and decrees people make up to convince time to go faster, so they can leave their mark on the world.  <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">But omitting to a dream world only says so much about a person, and reality is what we live in, so why not dream about the reality. <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> <span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;">My reality is this. I am alive, I am breathing, and I am Taylor.