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Brittany Renée

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Member Since: Nov, 2002


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Featured Book
The Lion And The Young Boy
by Albert Megraw

Set in Africa in the late 1890's tribal law dictate boys of sixteen summers must kill a lion to become a man.With the tribe diminishing year by year as the youth of the n..  
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Blogs by Brittany Renée

The Truth
11/15/2003 6:47:06 PM
Envy besieges me in a warm blanket of failing memories. Attempts tried for in my heart but never gained in the palm of my hands. Because youth always lives on in the young, my eyes do glitter and they shine. You think it's because my aspirations, my dreams, my goals... all of my desires are at the tip of my fingers. The glitter is hope for a late start. The shine is a tear for the past that I've failed at.

As a child my dream wasn't to just be famous, but it was to be able to look back when I was eighteen and say, "I did that," and still not be able to believe it. I wanted to not just amaze the world, but I wanted to surprise myself. The only surprise that lie there waiting for me in the future was that there was no surprise. That I would turn out average. My biggest fear.

No book. No prayer. No words... could ever give to me what I've lost. I have not lost just dreams, hopes, faith, but I've lost a part of me that I pretended to be... until I reached the finish line and saw I wasn't even eligible to compete in the first place. I was running a race for those who can fly... but I hadn't even been taught what flying was yet.

At the tender age of six, I had already climbed mountains and discovered amazing things. I had already gained three billion dollars and the world already knew my face. My autograph was priceless, that's why I always practised. My photos were invaluable and were treasured amongst everybody. Whenever I walked into a room, I could hear them whisper about me and boys never thought that they'd have a change with me... thats why I always admired guys who came up to me from the crowd of strange faces.

There was that castle that I lived in, decked in warm colours, hearths the size of doors, maids and servants galore but we're all friends anyways. The corridors were marbled floors and it was chilly enough always to wear your elegant wear as well as a fashionable cover up. My husband thrived on romancing me and our children ran about like angels, spreading good news and goodness to all. Our fame was unimaginable, and our happiness.. not even tangible.

How many years later now and how closer have I gotten to this "reality" in my head? Not one step. Not a breath closer. In fact, the harder I try to step, the further back I go... and now I'm not only failing and gaining more work to do... but I'm becoming too old to achieve.

Even more horrendous...I'm becoming too old to be amazing.

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More Blogs by Brittany Renée
•  The Truth - Saturday, November 15, 2003  
• Frenzy of Agony I - Monday, September 08, 2003
• Using the Past to Make the Future - Monday, August 18, 2003
• Proper Poetry - Monday, June 30, 2003

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