I won't lie to you and tell you that in life all things beautiful is kind. Because truly it is almost never always that things beautiful are. In Fact beauty almost if not always disguises itself on the faces of the darkest souls. I will only speak to you the truth and mention the fact that all things truly are beautiful. But I'll also tell you something you've probably never been told before. Beauty is not always what it seems to be. Beauty does not exist on the surface but beyond what is. Beauty exist on the inside where it can not be seen because true beauty is shy it has no desire to be recognized. True beauty will never be seen as hideous because those who think it to be hideous are infact hideous themselves. Because they are one of those dark souls where you'll only find beauty to exists on the surface and no where else. I'll tell you something that probably has yet to come to your knowledge.
Beauty I tell you, is almost never beautiful.
*. *. *.*
It happened when my mother asked me to go to the bank with her.
Beep!
Daddy and her had just had a fight.
I don't think she needed the money and I don't think she really wanted to go to the bank.
I think she just wanted to get out of the house, too many memories were reminisced there.
Beep. Beep.
Too much of the noise and not enough silence.
Too many of the nasty words yelled, and not enough silence.
Beep.
Silence to me meant peace.
Peace is hardly ever loud, it resembles itself quietly.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Home was no longer home. Nothing but a house now.
It was only home because of the quiet, the quiet always seemed present.
Now am not so sure what quiet is anymore. Whatever it was it had vacated itself from my home, leaving an empty hole and welcoming in the loudness, the noise.
Beep.
The sound that should have belonged elsewhere because the sound wasn't the faint ringing of silence.
It was unsettlement, turmoil, disharmony.
The opposite of what it used to be, what it should have been.
A huge part of the whole scenario was a mystery to me.
I didn't get it, I couldn't get it. Perhaps I just refused to understand. Or perhaps I was still too young to.
Because the understanding took knowledge.
I told you before my vision of the world was still blurred, did you forget that I was still eight?
Still just merely a kid.
A child, an adolescent mind?
YOU ARE READING
~Theories
Historia Corta{Completed} Luis Cowery is a eight year whom is deemed an outcast. He has no friends the rest of the children in his class avoid him. He one of those children that just aren't the same as the others, the grown up's don't deem him as someone or...
