Blog: Kat.Ballou on LiveVideo.com

Gender: Female
Age: 21
Sign: Leo
City: Boston
State: Massachusetts
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MONDAY, JUNE 30, 2008 (7:23 PM)

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fra·gil·i·ty

(I'm feeling nostalgic)

frag·ile
1. easily broken, shattered, or damaged; delicate

Forgive me for being cheesy. This is another childhood memory blog. I had a flashback to childhood the other morning while rushing to get to work on time. Random memories are not something to be taken for granted. So this is more for me than you anyway. Fuck off :)

I'm chasing a fluttering white moth around the yard one summer, little knees smeared in dirt with hints of fresh speckled blood peeking through. I'm cupping my tiny outstretched hands that are raw from climbing trees that aren't trees but castles with endless spiral staircases into the sky. I'm wearing my favorite worn out frilly once-white dress, now decorated with mud and grass stains. My bony legs stick straight out of clunky black boots caked with a layer of grayish brown. Torn fairy wings are strapped loosely around each bare, tanned little shoulder, one side slinks halfway down to my elbow. I'm happy. I'm dressed with that whole-faced smile that can only come from not giving a fuck about anything in the world other than this stupid freaking moth. It lands delicate as a floating fuzz on the chub of my thumb and both hands clasp together to capture the frail creature. Fingers part to reveal my tiny treasure; there it is, a crushed smear of sparking white powder. A once fluttering waif of life snuffed out and reduced to a pile of fairy dust in my palm. I stare wide-eyed and bewildered at the shimmery remains, at my life crushing hands. For a moment like a lifetime I reflect in this moment of enlightenment for the fragility of life before smearing my victim to a grassy grave and running to catch up with Daniel for some frog hunting.

Here I am just short of 20 years old, knuckles tense on the steering wheel. Hundreds of tiny lives are ending one splat at a time on my windshield while I'm worrying about being late to work. A quick swish of blue fluid and their tiny tragedies are wiped away and forgotten while I barrel on at 80 miles per hour.

Life ends. Life goes on. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Everything an endless cycle.

Category: Life

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Posted Jun 30, 08 by MasterOfTheControl
It was okay.

Posted Jun 29, 08 by anotherbrianne (

)
kat have you taken a non-fiction class? because this is better than some of the shit i read in the "competitive" "highbrow" "elitist" professional publishing non-fiction program that i took at that fancy pants university.

submit submit submit.

Posted Jun 29, 08 by HIGHONSTRESS
endless cycle.. yeah, spin me around Kat!

Posted Jun 29, 08 by MasterOfTheControl
Frag-il-e.... must be italian.

Posted Jun 29, 08 by methodofmac (

)
Good blog!

Posted Jun 29, 08 by SillyLeslie (

)
"..tiny tragedies..." I sure hope you're doing some type of serious writing, you are talented. Come back to New England..home of great writers.