Box of Chocolates

[Taboo]

This is an ongoing journal in the form of a story. So there isn't really going to be an ending for a long time.

Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get. Who came up with that anyway? Life is NOT a box of chocolates. The only way life is like chocolates is if it's a boxful of the nasty flavored ones that everyone avoids until it's the only one left. People know what they're going to get. They plan on it, and then act surprised when it finally comes around. Life isn't about surprises, it's about routine. Getting through the drudgery of repeating the same events over again. At different periods of life, it shifts from school, to work, to friends, until it eventually lands on retirement. Just plan on throwing in some car accidents, heartbreaking relationships, possible marriage and/or divorce, debt, taxes, and death. There's your life. Maybe you'll be one out of the 100 million people where something rare and freaky happens...like you stumble on some billion-dollar artifact, win a contest, or somehow be placed in the celebrity limelight. Still the same, you'll face most everything everyone else has to. And don't forget pain. No one escapes bone crunching, flesh eating, soul ripping pain.
There's one thing I don't understand from the whole 'box of chocolates.' What's with the similes? Why are people always needing to compare trite emotions and ideals to something tangible and existing? And since everyone has their own personal opinions abut those ideals, you can compare anything to everything.
For example: I could compare love to dirt. Depending on how you treat it, it can be both rich and have the possibility of growing new things, or it can be stale and useless. Ooooh, romantic. There's no need for similes. Life is routine. Simple, but truthful. The funny thing is: people like the fact that life is about routine. They love that they can predict just about everything and know what's going to happen next. Unforseeable change terrifies them. Even if it's for the better.
Which brings me to the reason why I'm writing this...absurdly long argument. Reality is boring. So with each fresh tap of the keyboard, I'm going to transfigure myself and my life to something more exciting. A story of my life that I would rather live in. I'm sure you want a name, but names [especially mine] are aesily forgettable...and easily distorted. But I bet you want to call me by something. If you really need something to refer by, call me Taboo. Because my whole life seems to be religion's mistake. So they tried to block me out, push me out, burn me down.
Whoops, looks like they failed.
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-1- Sept. 18, 2009
Drop dead gorgeous. That's what he called me. Gorgeous. The phrase rolled around in my mind before a smirk rippled over my face, ready to transfigure into a cynical laugh. Yet as my eyes, bitter and suspicious, searched his I saw no scorn or mocking. His seriousness struck me in jolted waves. Don't get me wrong. I've been called beautiful, pretty, attractive. The allusion of drop dead gorgeous is that I somehow am beautiful enough to stop hearts, kill with looks. I felt myself slipping into dangerous territory. Each compliment given me dangled on a hook. The hook of expectation. The expectation of sex. As if I'd be willing to degrade myself enough to reward them for imitating hollow flattery. Did he know who he was even talking to? Did he see my hazel-brown irises slowly shift into a slate-tinted green? Or the dark shadow spreading over the sallow angles of my face? Didn't he realize his attempts at trying to soothe me only fed the monster within?
Of course he didn't. Otherwise he wouldn't look at me.
The moment fades and my life fast forwards.
She awakens and rises to claim what she believes is rightfully hers. . . me.

-2- Sept. 19, 2009
The smell of my blood excites her. We stare down at the thin, sharp leaf of metal that just moments ago I dragged across my arm. My skin rips open as the angry wound displays my tendon.
My inner demon arouses to possess me, wills me to feel that delightful sting all over my body. Now there is blood everywhere. People screaming, shouting.
We are fighting. Evangeline and I fight against my roommate and Bryce [the one who called my gorgeous]. We almost win, yet eventually they overpower us. I calm down as Eva retreats to the dark corners of my mind.
I feel numb. I feel alone.

-3- Sept. 20
I find it funny that the man who spent so much time asking me to smile and telling me I'm beautiful now says he doesn't want to get involved. It was only a matter of time before someone thought of me as a freak. I'm sorry if I've confused you. Don't worry since soon I'll delve into my past so you understand how I work just a little bit better.
To begin with, I'm cursed. Right now I'm gazing into the bathroom mirror. There is a flash, and instead of seeing me in the reflection, there's an older woman. Dark, cocoa hair spirals passed her shoulders. Her eyes slant with an almond shape with a dark grey shaded green hue sparkling around her pupils. Lips, red as wine against her porcelain skin, peel open to reveal razor-edged teeth. She is a monster. A demon. And she lives inside of me.

-4- Sept. 21
The first nine years of my life weave into a nostalgic circle of familiarity and routine. Though wild and hardly manageable, every day remained fairly repetitive. Yet I found comfort in the monotony, seeing as I was surrounded by family and friends. I grew up in Utah under the very strict, shrew religion of Mormonism. Because of this, rules circulated around these concepts: order, obedience, Jesus, and love. Somehow the idea of love is drowned out by the first two values. In an exhaggerated way, "Obey or die." However, at a young age you usually aren't aware of limited freedom until you hit puberty.
As I said, I was happy in my complacency. Then my first drastic change arrived. My dad works for General Motors. His job requires him to go along with any sort of transfer. For some bizarre reason it was South Dakota. At the time South Dakota meant Mount Rushmore and the Black Forest. After living there for two and a half years, I cam to see it as the worst state existing in America. Not only is it freezing, cold, and windy, most everyone is Lutheran and despises Mormons For two years I lived life without friends. Six months before I moved again, I finally made one firend. Sam. We had a lot of fun together, despite the fact she was four years younger.

-5- Sept. 25
Eventually the time came to pack bags and leave South Dakota. I wasn't really that emotional about it. All I came to know is that I would definitely miss Sam. Our next destination was Plainfield, Illinois. Excited that we were going to live an hour away of Chicago, I anticipated the next move with elation. And for one year I experience a fairly happy life. This is where I met Alyssa. Someone I haven't stopped talking to 7 years later. She's my best friend, and I love her with a passion that I don't think she'll ever realize.