depiction2

When Daisy asks someone a question, she likes to hear a long and accurate answer. She has realized though, that the world is full of petty little answers. For reasons Daisy knows nothing about, people seem to hesitate to express the entire thought, people cut themselves off at a certain point, they consolidate their response in order to consume less time an appear less socially obtuse.

Do you ever notice things about yourself that you specifically tried to avoid? Things that are peculiarly inevitable? As a child, Daisy remembers promising herself that she wouldn�t cry when she �grew up.� Now here is Daisy, bawling her eyes out, lost in an ocean of tears, with rivers of drool seeping from her pillow to the sea. She has an orange life jacket on but it only keeps her afloat, in order to swim Daisy knows she must remove it. The water is choppy and cold, cold enough to make one think of ice cream; ice cream yet another personality that Daisy can�t say no to. Daisy struggles to unsnap the orange enemy and dives beneath the surface, swimming towards the shore. The observers on the boat think that she has given up, or given in; they think she is choosing to drown. Daisy knows the shore is far but she also knows it�s there. She bobs up for air and the boat people relax for a second, she dives back under and the tension is like a thick mist, so thick it�s easy to become disoriented. Daisy once again surfaces and is amused but disappointed to realize that everyone thinks she is drowning when she is only trying to find a way to live.

Cold�Daisy hasn�t felt so cold since the last time she found a boy to be a liar. As she sipped her lemonade, Daisy felt nearly as cold as her drink. It was coming from inside of her, a chilling wave radiating from the core of her body. Numbness too, but that numbness invaded nothing but her mind. Thinking about awkward interactions with children and Jehovah�s Witness,� Daisy bit her lip. She felt that most people viewed death differently than she. Daisy assumed that the deceased were still conscious just on another plane of existence, she felt like she was never alone, just not always able to communicate with her companions.

Daisy had a friend who she had let slip away, a girl who thought as much as she. Her friend could converse with Daisy for hours at anytime of the day or night. Closeness had been important for months then it had suddenly been discarded. It was a very strange understanding between the two girls: they didn�t need to be physically together to feel as though they were. Daisy rarely spent time with this friend, and lately she had realized that they had grown apart. It was with great regret that Daisy accepted this truth and she regretted losing the friendship in various aspects. Daisy often wondered if her friend also felt and was hurt by this loss.

In places she had once felt at ease Daisy now felt unusually uncomfortable. She felt unwelcome and never completely appreciated. Never was she fully attentive or in control of her actions. Daisy felt like she was trying to fill a niche she had once filled, but it had somehow become difficult to relate to, she was different. She had grown or shrunk, somehow changed but they had not. It made no sense and yet it made perfect sense at the same time. Daisy recollected consciously and deliberately choosing a revolution. She had altered herself psychologically and now many people thought she was psychotic. Daisy knows that she is not insane just often misunderstood. Daisy considers herself to be socially extreme. She either alienates or elates people, and this is almost intentional. People have no middle ground, they like Daisy much or stridently avoid contact with her. Some people are direct with her, but many aren�t.

Daisy can�t even begin to explain her feeling towards bus stations. The abundance of different people is definite, but unlike an airport, a bus station feels sad and lonely even dreary. Nobody was exuberant or excited, everybody wore a kind of world-beaten, discontented look on their face. Each person was in a separate world, they remained silent and dreamy and the air always seemed to be thick and smoky. These were the reasons Daisy loved bus stations, it was a reclusive gathering place for those who normally spoke and were active in the company of others, all one had to do was sit and stay quiet, if you followed these rules few would bother or question you. It was as if somber attitudes develop as one steps over the threshold of the bus station. Because of the invading silence and complete ambiguity, watching others lost in thought was possible. Eyes tell stories that words cannot express, bruises and scars are mysterious and persistent phantoms of random accidents and unspoken hardships. If one is imaginative it�s easy to create entire histories, personalities and attitudes. Such thinking entertains Daisy yet if she ever interacts with somebody she is surprised and delighted that her stories are far from accurate.