Deep Desires (Zayn Malik)

9

The amount of time we spent at the St. Louis Arch couldn't be estimated if you used a calculator, it seemed to last forever even though it wasn't anywhere near the forever I wanted it to be. With every word the tour guide said painted a new picture in my mind, sort of inspired me to do something with the beauty that had been passed to me.

I know it's completely unrealistic how excited and inspired I am by this once again structure, but I can't help but to fall in love. I've never been anywhere but Jackson Mississippi which makes anywhere out there look like a heaven on earth, even if most of us are living Hell.

I couldn't help but to marvel at Zayn the whole time either, how selfish, I know. The fact I was standing on a work of art but to busy staring at my piece of art. No I did not 'make' Zayn but I like to think we found eachother for all the right reasons, and with that I believe is a work of art. And not all art is with a paint brush and a few pieces of paper, but also with humans and the people around them or with whom they interact with. The human itself is a living, moving piece of art that I believe is neglected for it's beauty each and every day.

Am I the only one who thinks everyone is just a beautiful piece of work? We were all created to be God's work of arts, he got bored with the average white clay so he moved on with the different colors, as would any child with a couple of tins of play-doh, but who would've ever guessed that these pieces of clay would one day be so cruel that they were willing to kill? And it isn't always with the race in which people kill, but there's that few percentage of clay models that were put into the heater and put into a solid figure but came out, in some way shape or form none like the others.

Although you couldn't tell as to the tiny dent in the head, their actions speaked in another way for them.

Murder or other inhumane actions or thoughts.

Murderers are the same way as with the battle against races, but instead a battle with their minds and the actions in which some can't control. I could control myself when I ran from my home, but I did it out of greed of wanting to make something better for myself instead of living a life, of well nothing. But, people who are deranged in the mind don't know that they are, so that's why killing is humane to them. That's all racism is, inhumane thoughts of what is wrong and what isn't. So who is to blame in these situations? The person themself, or their uncontrollable thoughts in which they presume?

Some of the things that run through my head are tough things to fight myself about, especially since most of the things I wondered about were questions that would most likely never be answered. But, I've always been someone to wonder about crimes and why people commit crimes and murder, stealing, betrayal and so on. But something else that makes me wonder is on what people are thinking when they take their own life. I don't know if I could ever have the guts to be able to commit these actions, but that is my thoughts, someone with suicidal thoughts may think differently than I do.

"Trish? Are you okay?" Zayn says and snaps me out of my weird thoughts that only I could ever understand. I nod and take another bite out of my sandwich. I watch the river splash against the banks and curl my toes into the grass.

Zayn picks up the pack of cigarettes and I gently hold his hands in mine so I can take the pack away from him.

"You're going to die if you smoke at this rate every day." I pull the pack into my own hands and set it behind me so he won't be able to see or touch it, unless he tries to get through me. "A smoke a day keeps the pain away." I say. "Only one smoke."

"Trish, I'm not smoking because I'm in pain, but because I like it and it's pleasurable." He smiles and I hold a still face, he needs to know that I'm serious and he can't distract me with that smile that I love to see.