Author's Note: This poem was inspired by Stevenson's constant reference to the duality of man. He proves through Jekyll and Hyde that every person has two sides to them and whichever personality is given more attention ends up dominating over the other. Jekyll experiences this when he describes, "that part of me which I had the power of projecting, had lately been exercised and nourished; it had seemed to me of late as though the body of Edward Hyde had grown in stature..." (113) It's a slow fade, but when you feed the bad, the evil, and the immorality, it eventually grows into a garden of wrong intentions.
Dry, untouched
A speck of small desires
Deprivation of attention
Of the springs of life
Across the rocky ground
There feeds color
But here, only hidden thoughts
The dark clouds roll over
The scorched earth cries out
Drops of hell fall to the cracked soil
A wet sense of relief
Hits the underdeveloped seed below
Dominating, forceful
The stronghold breaks through the land
Towering the innocent petals of youth
Growing swiftly alongside the storm
Hiding humility
The night brings forth temptation
A new form of life breaks lose
Seceding former morality
Feeding future intentions
Hungry for so long
Finally nourished
The arid earth rejoices
Flaming with iniquity
Morning interrupts the sensation
Sun pouring in with hope
But the garden remains
Forever quenched by the night's storm
Monday, February 20, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The Love that Killed
Author's Note: Towards the end of the novel Jekyll and Hyde, we are hit hard by the theme of responsibility and how we as humans consequently feel enslaved by our personal responsibility to the people we know and care about. A friend of Jekyll's, Dr. Lanyon, experiences this moral tug when he receives a letter from Jekyll crying out for his help in a dangerous situation. Parts of the letter read, "these arrangements are of capital importance; and that by the neglect of one of them...you might have charged your conscience with my death or the shipwreck of my reason...and if that night passes without event, you will know that you have seen the last of Henry Jekyll" (95-96).
"I've never confided in anyone about this. You can't repeat it to anybody. I am only telling you because I trust you with everything I have. I love you."
My mind battled back and forth. I had always learned not to keep secrets if it meant someone was in trouble, but I loved him too and I didn't want to lose his trust. I didn't want him to love me any less and if he found out that I had come clean about this secret, I would be sure to lose him. But then again, what if he actually did something dangerous? What would I do without him? If he was gone, my heart would feel completely empty. The forces argued in my head. He was the most important guy in my life, I couldn't let him down. I had to keep this secret. He would hate me if I told anyone, and I could not let that happen.
And so I kept this burden on my shoulders, I talked him through his struggles and all was well.....
....Until I got a call two weeks later. It was his sobbing mother on the other end. My hands began to sweat and my heart skipped a beat. I already knew what tragic news would be coming through the phone line any second. Tears began to form in my eyes as I heard her utter the words, "We found a suicide letter on his bed last night. It apologized for all the pain he had ever caused us and said the we are better off without him." I could hear the pain in her voice. "We got a call soon thereafter from the police saying they found his dead body in the lake later that night. He had drowned himself." Her voice trailed off as she managed to choke out the rest of the story.
And for the rest of my life, I would have to live knowing that I could have done something to prevent this tragedy. Every day it will haunt me, taunt me; for my personal and social responsibility to him created a barricade, and caused me to lose sight of the bigger picture. I didn't want to let him down, but I ended up letting him down in the biggest way possible. I could have saved his life, but instead...my love killed.
"I've never confided in anyone about this. You can't repeat it to anybody. I am only telling you because I trust you with everything I have. I love you."
My mind battled back and forth. I had always learned not to keep secrets if it meant someone was in trouble, but I loved him too and I didn't want to lose his trust. I didn't want him to love me any less and if he found out that I had come clean about this secret, I would be sure to lose him. But then again, what if he actually did something dangerous? What would I do without him? If he was gone, my heart would feel completely empty. The forces argued in my head. He was the most important guy in my life, I couldn't let him down. I had to keep this secret. He would hate me if I told anyone, and I could not let that happen.
And so I kept this burden on my shoulders, I talked him through his struggles and all was well.....
....Until I got a call two weeks later. It was his sobbing mother on the other end. My hands began to sweat and my heart skipped a beat. I already knew what tragic news would be coming through the phone line any second. Tears began to form in my eyes as I heard her utter the words, "We found a suicide letter on his bed last night. It apologized for all the pain he had ever caused us and said the we are better off without him." I could hear the pain in her voice. "We got a call soon thereafter from the police saying they found his dead body in the lake later that night. He had drowned himself." Her voice trailed off as she managed to choke out the rest of the story.
And for the rest of my life, I would have to live knowing that I could have done something to prevent this tragedy. Every day it will haunt me, taunt me; for my personal and social responsibility to him created a barricade, and caused me to lose sight of the bigger picture. I didn't want to let him down, but I ended up letting him down in the biggest way possible. I could have saved his life, but instead...my love killed.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
And the answer is...
....not what we want to hear. This has happened to all of us. We spend so much time and energy desiring to discover every answer -- hoping the knowledge will give us some sort of satisfaction -- but then when we uncover the truth, we regret it and want to take back what we have learned, because it is something unpleasant to our heart, mind, or body. Initially, we create a strong drive within us to possess the answers but when granted our wish, we no longer want to know. Enslaved by our curiosity, we hunger for the facts, but suddenly we are cut open by the answers and we end up dwindling down a path we never intended to travel on.
In short, complete and absolute knowledge can endanger us, as it did for Utterson in the novel, Jekyll and Hyde. He was under the pressure and curiosity to find out why Jekyll would want a mysterious creature such as Hyde under his will. With much time and lack of sleep, he received the answers, but they turned up unexpected and continue to haunt him. Now, all he wishes to do is rid of any evidence in order that he not be associated with the details of the traumatic mysteries that lied ahead. "But no sooner was Mr. Utterson alone that night, than he locked the note into his safe, where it reposed from that time forward" (55).
There are many times in life when gaining information is vital and important but in some situations, things are better left unsaid, untouched, and unknown. If we get too caught up in the idea that awareness equals happiness, then mistakes will be made and regrets will be had. The desire to know can lead us to strange and daunting places and why be there, when we can remain steadfast in the normalcy of our everyday lives?
In short, complete and absolute knowledge can endanger us, as it did for Utterson in the novel, Jekyll and Hyde. He was under the pressure and curiosity to find out why Jekyll would want a mysterious creature such as Hyde under his will. With much time and lack of sleep, he received the answers, but they turned up unexpected and continue to haunt him. Now, all he wishes to do is rid of any evidence in order that he not be associated with the details of the traumatic mysteries that lied ahead. "But no sooner was Mr. Utterson alone that night, than he locked the note into his safe, where it reposed from that time forward" (55).
There are many times in life when gaining information is vital and important but in some situations, things are better left unsaid, untouched, and unknown. If we get too caught up in the idea that awareness equals happiness, then mistakes will be made and regrets will be had. The desire to know can lead us to strange and daunting places and why be there, when we can remain steadfast in the normalcy of our everyday lives?
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
The Flames of Duality
Author's Note: One of the strong motifs that is repeated throughout the novel, Jekyll and Hyde, is duality and the idea of evil creeping into the double identities that live inside Dr. Jekyll. This poem represents the two personalities and their inner struggle between good and evil.
My body wanders
My mind pressures
I stand alone
And crumble to pieces
Fighting for who I am
Or who I used to
Hoping for the best
Intrigued by the worst
Normalcy no longer exists
Opposites struggle to find peace
Duality like burning flames
Ashes of my past
There is no definition of me
Only what I used to be
And this mysterious ghost
Remaining steadfast inside
Eating away
I am enslaved to myself
Creating life
Creating evil
An empty canvas
Bare and unknown
The world knows me
But I become him
He recognizes my desires
My every thought
He studies my heart
He conquers my soul
Double vision
Double stature
Double identity
"I believe you fully; I would trust you before any man alive, ay, before myself, if I could make the choice; but indeed it isn't what you fancy; it is not as bad as that; and just to put your good heart at rest, I will tell you one thing: the moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr. Hyde." (58)
My body wanders
My mind pressures
I stand alone
And crumble to pieces
Fighting for who I am
Or who I used to
Hoping for the best
Intrigued by the worst
Normalcy no longer exists
Opposites struggle to find peace
Duality like burning flames
Ashes of my past
There is no definition of me
Only what I used to be
And this mysterious ghost
Remaining steadfast inside
Eating away
I am enslaved to myself
Creating life
Creating evil
An empty canvas
Bare and unknown
The world knows me
But I become him
He recognizes my desires
My every thought
He studies my heart
He conquers my soul
Double vision
Double stature
Double identity
"I believe you fully; I would trust you before any man alive, ay, before myself, if I could make the choice; but indeed it isn't what you fancy; it is not as bad as that; and just to put your good heart at rest, I will tell you one thing: the moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr. Hyde." (58)
Friday, January 20, 2012
A Non-Patriotic Fight For Freedom
Author's Note: This is my short story that deals with a battle for freedom between a daughter and her parents. This issue hits hard for many teens, including myself, and the defense mechanism she uses is, unfortunately, as harmful as it gets.
Some say that life gives you a thousand reasons to cry; others might support the theory that life is a blessing and only gives you reasons to smile. Regardless, most of the near, dear and close people in Annabelle’s life observed her constant struggle and decided life handed her an obstacle that anyone her age would fixate and frustrate over. On the outside, her life seemed normal and acceptable, with her happily married parents, a nice house, neighborhood, school and a strong group of friends. But on the inside she was trapped, and every day was a battle. She lacked something that her heart longed for more than any materialistic object: freedom.
Her body was a battlefield; her heart was a warzone and her mind a place that penetrated ways to overcome the enemy. The strenuous thoughts subconsciously found reasons to attack, to fight harder, but she reminded herself of the short time period that remained before everything she wanted would be handed to her on a beautiful silver platter. As grand as this sounded, deep down Annabelle knew that if this gift of complete freedom was given to her all at once, it would lead to danger, yet she still fantasized.
In the normalcy of her everyday life, Annabelle put on a smile, laughed with her friends, and put this deep longing in the back of her mind. She hoped and prayed that if she continued succeeding in school, sports, and relationships, that one day her parents would realize her maturity and release her – like a bear trapped inside a cage. Annabelle gave her parents everything she had; as much as she didn’t want to please them or give them the slightest bit of satisfaction, she did for the sake of her own independence – she took on responsibilities, got good grades, owned her mistakes, and tried to gain trust. Yet time and time again, she failed them.
Bitter, hopeful, thoughts seemed to pour out from her brain attacking every inch of her mind and body. Her heart pounded, a thousand miles a minute. Sweat began to perspire in the palms of her hands. Her mind was vigorously formulating an argument that she hoped would convince her parents.
“I just want to go out with him. All we want is to go to the movies. We will be in public, and I’ll be home by 10:00.”
“We’re sorry Annabelle; we just think you are too young to be going out with boys. And we don’t want to put you in situations we don’t believe you can handle.”
The malevolent tone in their voices pierced her ears, “But I am sixteen, and he’s a good guy. We aren’t going to get into any trouble; we just want to hang out. Why is that such a terrible thing to ask for?” She could feel the tears traveling from her heart to her begging eyes.
“We’re sorry honey, but we are the parents and these are the rules we’ve decided to abide by.” These were the words that made her blood boil, that caused an earning to escape all realms of authority; these were the words she hated most.
They were called freedom fights – the hour long talks that always resulted in tears and screaming on both ends of the spectrum. Although there were no guns involved, words as sharp as swords slashed from both directions and the battles were endless. Spewing out of control, she begged for mercy and with every ounce of energy she desired for them to ease up. All she wanted was to be a normal teenager, who got to go out and enjoy her youthful years and fill them with memories worthy of remembering. She wasn’t asking for parties, she wasn’t asking for anything unrealistic, she was just asking for a little… freedom.
Many times, she admitted that her parents were right about things, they protected her and provided her with the care that every child needs; they taught her the ways of life. She gained insight from them, and she credited them for much of the wisdom and maturity that she carried with her at the age of sixteen. Why, then, did her parents not trust her, or give her the independence she wanted? Why did they continue to hold on so tight? In two years, she would be handed all the freedom she could possibly imagine. Even her closest friends worried that once this happened, it would be so surreal that Annabelle would lose herself; for as a teen, she was unable to experience trials, tests and mistakes.
But as the days turned to nights, and the nights turned to years, the longing only got stronger. The words they spoke, the rules, the hypocritical lies, the threats, the love, and the protection, it strangled Annabelle and she gave up. The day had finally come, she had graduated high school, she was eighteen, and the battle for freedom was over – she finally had what she always wanted: complete independence. As she sat in her dorm room for the first time, she realized the newly found freedoms upon all the events that had just taken place. Her parents had given her away, given her away to the real world and she was on her own forever. Her parents no longer owned her. “The world is a crazy place.” The words of her mother crazed Annabelle’s mind and taunted her like a broken record; she looked around the room and pondered what crazy stories she would have to tell of her first night at college.
The music blasted in her dorm room as she got dressed for the evening. The short, tight skirt that her mother would never approve of, found its way onto her slim body and as she slipped on a low cut blouse, a rebellious smile crossed her face. Her heart soared; for she was about to begin her whole life. Hot pink pumps accented her outfit – she was unstoppable. Strutting down the hallway, she grabbed the attention of everyone. Boys of all social classes were drawn to her beauty and for the first time, she felt powerful. An older, attractive, boy named Aiden introduced himself to Annabelle. He mentioned a club where he and his friends party and asked if she would like to join them. As she stood there, her mind went numb and she entered a place of pure adrenaline. Flashbacks of the heavy parental control seized her brain. These were the types of situations that her parents protected her from her entire life – it was completely against their rules and regulations – and because of this, she nodded her head in agreement.
The sounds of monitors filled the hospital room. Tragedy filled the air and remorse covered the faces of Annabelle’s parents. “You should step outside while we take some final examinations. We will be out shortly and then you may come in to say your final goodbyes.” The doctors’ words sunk deep into their hearts; for there is no greater pain than to watch your child die a slow and painful death. The nurse escorted Annabelle’s parents out into the waiting room and the door slammed behind them with an aching screech.
It was a drunk driving accident that killed her, but anyone who truly knew Annabelle would say it was something much more. It was the excitement, it was the pure joy of freedom, and it was the need for power and control. Freedom is a battle that, when fought too hard, can become a wild experience with deathly consequences. Throughout her life, her parents had protected her from the dangers of the real world, never letting her experience the power of mistakes or how to learn from making bad choices. Annabelle’s parents would never admit to this; they thought they raised her as best they could, but it wasn’t what she needed, it wasn’t what her mind and body thrived for, and the fatal joy she experienced in freedom would forever haunt their lives.
Some say that life gives you a thousand reasons to cry; others might support the theory that life is a blessing and only gives you reasons to smile. Regardless, most of the near, dear and close people in Annabelle’s life observed her constant struggle and decided life handed her an obstacle that anyone her age would fixate and frustrate over. On the outside, her life seemed normal and acceptable, with her happily married parents, a nice house, neighborhood, school and a strong group of friends. But on the inside she was trapped, and every day was a battle. She lacked something that her heart longed for more than any materialistic object: freedom.
Her body was a battlefield; her heart was a warzone and her mind a place that penetrated ways to overcome the enemy. The strenuous thoughts subconsciously found reasons to attack, to fight harder, but she reminded herself of the short time period that remained before everything she wanted would be handed to her on a beautiful silver platter. As grand as this sounded, deep down Annabelle knew that if this gift of complete freedom was given to her all at once, it would lead to danger, yet she still fantasized.
In the normalcy of her everyday life, Annabelle put on a smile, laughed with her friends, and put this deep longing in the back of her mind. She hoped and prayed that if she continued succeeding in school, sports, and relationships, that one day her parents would realize her maturity and release her – like a bear trapped inside a cage. Annabelle gave her parents everything she had; as much as she didn’t want to please them or give them the slightest bit of satisfaction, she did for the sake of her own independence – she took on responsibilities, got good grades, owned her mistakes, and tried to gain trust. Yet time and time again, she failed them.
Bitter, hopeful, thoughts seemed to pour out from her brain attacking every inch of her mind and body. Her heart pounded, a thousand miles a minute. Sweat began to perspire in the palms of her hands. Her mind was vigorously formulating an argument that she hoped would convince her parents.
“I just want to go out with him. All we want is to go to the movies. We will be in public, and I’ll be home by 10:00.”
“We’re sorry Annabelle; we just think you are too young to be going out with boys. And we don’t want to put you in situations we don’t believe you can handle.”
The malevolent tone in their voices pierced her ears, “But I am sixteen, and he’s a good guy. We aren’t going to get into any trouble; we just want to hang out. Why is that such a terrible thing to ask for?” She could feel the tears traveling from her heart to her begging eyes.
“We’re sorry honey, but we are the parents and these are the rules we’ve decided to abide by.” These were the words that made her blood boil, that caused an earning to escape all realms of authority; these were the words she hated most.
They were called freedom fights – the hour long talks that always resulted in tears and screaming on both ends of the spectrum. Although there were no guns involved, words as sharp as swords slashed from both directions and the battles were endless. Spewing out of control, she begged for mercy and with every ounce of energy she desired for them to ease up. All she wanted was to be a normal teenager, who got to go out and enjoy her youthful years and fill them with memories worthy of remembering. She wasn’t asking for parties, she wasn’t asking for anything unrealistic, she was just asking for a little… freedom.
Many times, she admitted that her parents were right about things, they protected her and provided her with the care that every child needs; they taught her the ways of life. She gained insight from them, and she credited them for much of the wisdom and maturity that she carried with her at the age of sixteen. Why, then, did her parents not trust her, or give her the independence she wanted? Why did they continue to hold on so tight? In two years, she would be handed all the freedom she could possibly imagine. Even her closest friends worried that once this happened, it would be so surreal that Annabelle would lose herself; for as a teen, she was unable to experience trials, tests and mistakes.
But as the days turned to nights, and the nights turned to years, the longing only got stronger. The words they spoke, the rules, the hypocritical lies, the threats, the love, and the protection, it strangled Annabelle and she gave up. The day had finally come, she had graduated high school, she was eighteen, and the battle for freedom was over – she finally had what she always wanted: complete independence. As she sat in her dorm room for the first time, she realized the newly found freedoms upon all the events that had just taken place. Her parents had given her away, given her away to the real world and she was on her own forever. Her parents no longer owned her. “The world is a crazy place.” The words of her mother crazed Annabelle’s mind and taunted her like a broken record; she looked around the room and pondered what crazy stories she would have to tell of her first night at college.
The music blasted in her dorm room as she got dressed for the evening. The short, tight skirt that her mother would never approve of, found its way onto her slim body and as she slipped on a low cut blouse, a rebellious smile crossed her face. Her heart soared; for she was about to begin her whole life. Hot pink pumps accented her outfit – she was unstoppable. Strutting down the hallway, she grabbed the attention of everyone. Boys of all social classes were drawn to her beauty and for the first time, she felt powerful. An older, attractive, boy named Aiden introduced himself to Annabelle. He mentioned a club where he and his friends party and asked if she would like to join them. As she stood there, her mind went numb and she entered a place of pure adrenaline. Flashbacks of the heavy parental control seized her brain. These were the types of situations that her parents protected her from her entire life – it was completely against their rules and regulations – and because of this, she nodded her head in agreement.
The sounds of monitors filled the hospital room. Tragedy filled the air and remorse covered the faces of Annabelle’s parents. “You should step outside while we take some final examinations. We will be out shortly and then you may come in to say your final goodbyes.” The doctors’ words sunk deep into their hearts; for there is no greater pain than to watch your child die a slow and painful death. The nurse escorted Annabelle’s parents out into the waiting room and the door slammed behind them with an aching screech.
It was a drunk driving accident that killed her, but anyone who truly knew Annabelle would say it was something much more. It was the excitement, it was the pure joy of freedom, and it was the need for power and control. Freedom is a battle that, when fought too hard, can become a wild experience with deathly consequences. Throughout her life, her parents had protected her from the dangers of the real world, never letting her experience the power of mistakes or how to learn from making bad choices. Annabelle’s parents would never admit to this; they thought they raised her as best they could, but it wasn’t what she needed, it wasn’t what her mind and body thrived for, and the fatal joy she experienced in freedom would forever haunt their lives.
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