Mystery Figure

It was a rainy summer day, where the evaporation from the ground was relived and the plants begging for thrust. I was sitting at home reading a old child hood book called The nutcracker, when a sudden shadow caught the corner of my eye. It was filled with memories. Happy ones, sad ones and shameful ones. As much as the shadow stayed in its place I had more and flash back consuming my mind until a sudden shock of my book hitting the floor snapped me back in to the present. Now turning to fully see the figure it was gone. It was gone as if it had a mission to encounter me with vision on visions. Or as to torment me for past mistake that then were not taken care of. It was strange. I thought I knew that figure but still nothing came to mind. How I wished I knew who or what it was or do I wish what that whatever it was would just leave me be. Like a grim reaper coming for your soul and taking the lonely path, seeing all you have done , not only to yourself but also to others. How uncomfortable. The thing that occurred that rainy summer day would be the only thing haunting me now. I say again , how uncomfortable. Breathing. To breathe. To counteract feelings and to project them as simple figure of just and love. Oh, by the way. What is love. Only simple fact of surrendering a mere portion of character. This bitter concept can only be presented to a edge breaker or even a home wrecking ball. Distant memories. What foolishness and a pale way of introducing a fear into the lives of the brave. Can someone explain the bordering concept of love and passion or the thin line between infatuation and love. This is troublesome discussion for psychopath or even a normal, sane, individual. All theses subjects yet to known, are here to be answered. But what poor soul would dare to unravel this uneasy measure. Will it be a scientist who continues to think that this can be explained by science or a major who thinks it is a new form of weapon to break a non- participants will in getting the truth. What foolish things to say. It cant be explained so easily or even broken between fine lines. What idiots to think such a way or is it just me. I am the one writing what I think. Am I that scientist or that major with thoughts of basic confusion. Is it me. Someone with to much on the brain. Oh, how I dread seeing that figure, placing all these profound thoughts within my head. The only way to take these memories and the figure out is to harden what has been soften. It is the only to present myself to a fine tooth comb once more. This a different stage in life. This must be taken care of. No more thoughts and no more memories. I t must stop now. Right now. How dare that figure come to see and not speak. It is a figure that surely presents a problem and how I wish it had never come. But it did nevertheless. It came as stupid making smart. What dishonor. Dishonor.

Sincerely Yours,

Age 15