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Eleanor Roosevelt Quotation: Burn Down Beauty



Joined: 2/28/2015
Posts: 1
maggie.fitzgerald.5
Margaret Fitzgerald
February 24, 2015
[email protected]

Eleanor Roosevelt Quotation: Burn Down Beauty

Little jet black ants, the size of a two year olds’ pinky nail, crawl all over me. Swarms scurrying over my shoulders, the group growing larger and larger as it moves across my chest and up my neck. Chills run up and down my spine causing my head to twitch and cock to the left. My whole face being scratched by their tiny legs moving all over, covering every inch of skin. I try to shake them off, claustrophobia sets in, I can barely breathe, I’m gasping for air. I am paralyzed where I lay.

Then I wake up…

***

My driveway is steep. There are cracks and flaws. Grass and weeds beginning to sprout through the cracks. In the summer it is hot. Scorching. Squirrels scurry across on the balls of their feet as I imagine the driveway is too hot to their touch. Chipmunks burrow in the freshly laid mulch. Worms inch across slowly. Rabbits running from the neighbors garden with leafy greens. Birds touchdown briefly. Blue jays. Swallows. Carolina chickadee’s. Mockingbirds. Warblers.

Sitting on the driveway, trying to catch a tan in the sweltering summer. I drop a small crumb and watch the ants begin to break pieces and head back to home in sync. There is something peaceful and beautiful about staring at the perfectly orchestrated way they conduct themselves. It’s like they had military training. Like they have worked all their lives to show this kind of order. Watching them use their feelers, and move their heads at their necks, makes me think they are conversing on weather or not it’s a trap.

It is…

***

I wake up in a sweat. Moving my hands across my body I feel for the little terrors, but find none. How can something so small make me feel so powerless? That day I had been told by my boyfriend to fix my pale complexion and work on some squats to “get that ass.” I was sixteen. I was suffocating in what people thought about me. I couldn’t breathe because I was less than what people actually wanted. I was paralyzed with fear of being less than perfect. I couldn’t control my own body because someone else was setting my beauty on fire and trying to build anew.

***
On this hot summer day, with scorching temperatures, water could boil on the black top. Little jet black ants move across the steaming driveway carrying the bits of crumb back and forth. Magnifying glass in hand, I manipulate the sun to turn the scorch to a firey blaze claiming the little soldier’s lives. Something so beautiful in nature in front of me. Something I had spent an hour appreciating. I destroyed it. All of it. But why? For what?

I guess I was just happy to be in control.

For once, I wasn’t the beautiful thing being set on fire.
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Comment by maggie.fitzgerald.5


Joined: 2/28/2015
Posts: 1
Margaret Fitzgerald
February 24, 2015
[email protected]

Eleanor Roosevelt Quotation: Burn Down Beauty

Little jet black ants, the size of a two year olds’ pinky nail, crawl all over me. Swarms scurrying over my shoulders, the group growing larger and larger as it moves across my chest and up my neck. Chills run up and down my spine causing my head to twitch and cock to the left. My whole face being scratched by their tiny legs moving all over, covering every inch of skin. I try to shake them off, claustrophobia sets in, I can barely breathe, I’m gasping for air. I am paralyzed where I lay.

Then I wake up…

***

My driveway is steep. There are cracks and flaws. Grass and weeds beginning to sprout through the cracks. In the summer it is hot. Scorching. Squirrels scurry across on the balls of their feet as I imagine the driveway is too hot to their touch. Chipmunks burrow in the freshly laid mulch. Worms inch across slowly. Rabbits running from the neighbors garden with leafy greens. Birds touchdown briefly. Blue jays. Swallows. Carolina chickadee’s. Mockingbirds. Warblers.

Sitting on the driveway, trying to catch a tan in the sweltering summer. I drop a small crumb and watch the ants begin to break pieces and head back to home in sync. There is something peaceful and beautiful about staring at the perfectly orchestrated way they conduct themselves. It’s like they had military training. Like they have worked all their lives to show this kind of order. Watching them use their feelers, and move their heads at their necks, makes me think they are conversing on weather or not it’s a trap.

It is…

***

I wake up in a sweat. Moving my hands across my body I feel for the little terrors, but find none. How can something so small make me feel so powerless? That day I had been told by my boyfriend to fix my pale complexion and work on some squats to “get that ass.” I was sixteen. I was suffocating in what people thought about me. I couldn’t breathe because I was less than what people actually wanted. I was paralyzed with fear of being less than perfect. I couldn’t control my own body because someone else was setting my beauty on fire and trying to build anew.

***
On this hot summer day, with scorching temperatures, water could boil on the black top. Little jet black ants move across the steaming driveway carrying the bits of crumb back and forth. Magnifying glass in hand, I manipulate the sun to turn the scorch to a firey blaze claiming the little soldier’s lives. Something so beautiful in nature in front of me. Something I had spent an hour appreciating. I destroyed it. All of it. But why? For what?

I guess I was just happy to be in control.

For once, I wasn’t the beautiful thing being set on fire.
Posted: Saturday, February 28, 2015 11:07:52 PM
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