For her, the most difficult aspect of life was looking back at the parts where she didn’t gain any wisdom. In her world, she was having a good time, and felt satisfied. Yet, it led to no greater understanding. Understanding would have pleased her. Perhaps that was itself wisdom: Just enjoy the moment. Rebellion isn’t supposed to please the soul anyway.
Youth being such a beautiful thing, she didn’t want to believe she wasted hers being unhappy. She found the areas she was fond of and reminisced. She began thinking of a man who had loved her. She had made him happy, but was sad over another man at the time. She began thinking of a warm morning’s phone call from that man who had loved her. She walked down the to the bank of the river behind her apartment complex. She remembered rejecting his invitations to his “Old Boy” fraternity parties, to dinners, and to bars. Including this phone call. Anything he wanted to do, she didn’t. She remembered that she could have been in love then, but happiness was futile then. So, she remembered her current unhappiness again.
During these youthful dark ages, which was not a premature mid-life crisis, but a cry for help, she tried to drink her pain and move far away. She tried to find love in the arms of many men, like most misguided young women. There’s nothing really wrong with that except eventually she would conclude she never should have moved far away and that she should stop drinking. Now she found herself living with two Canadians, one by way of France, and the other by way of Venezuela, who antagonized her greatly. The thought of her old lover brought her comfort for inexplicable reasons. She had been mean to him.
Years later, being beautiful still brought the girl attention, but a different kind. Not wanting to be a beautiful princess of a girl she was made her the easy target of jealous personal attacks. The Canadians she lived with perceived status, but had none; the Canadians, having no reputation, but thinking themselves reputable anyway, felt threatened by the girl. She was easy to look at and therefore, easy to think about. This wasn’t the first time she’d been attacked. In the time they spent mulling over the girl’s value, they couldn’t figure out where she had gone right. So, they shamelessly picked her apart.
The girl was tough, but she was interested in practicing humility. And she was still unhappy. The undue character assassination bothered her. She thought about her old lover again. He would have consoled her. He would have told the girl it was not her fault that she had useful skills, experience, and character. He would have told her she had a habit of excellence because it is how she was raised. He would have told her that she should have known was better than them. Her unhappy heart was too humble to think any of that.
She decided to use body language instead of real communication with the Canadians from now on. She hoped a shrug, a wink, a thumbs up, and a smile would reinforce that she didn’t want to hear what spewed out from their mouths even in simple conversation. She didn’t want to know where lay their hearts. It wouldn’t make sense to the Canadians, but people without a purpose often don’t. But can the girl do it? Can she be disciplined? Can she dodge their obsession? Can the girl keep her eyes toward the heavens?