Unbroken :: essays research papers

Unbroken     I wouldnt know how to describe a painting or a sonata, but I can tellsomeone how I feel, though they rarely know what I mean. Words fail me often,but nobody notices. They arent sense of hearing anyway. One person knows me. WhenI talk to him I feel like a knife in a drawer, because my words have power.The possible impose on _or_ oppress would be irreparable.     He and I are like a house falling apart. Our sidewalk is askew and ourmailbox is missing. It is painted pink and yellow. We love it, its unique. coating night I stomped my feet through the floorboards because I deprivationed to feelmy toes in the populace. I pushed my hands through the ceiling and kicked downthe walls. I know he wonders why I do things like that. I just wanted to letsome air in. I said, "Look hon, now we can guess the stars." He brushed off thedebris and put me to bed. He wont sleep tonight.     His thoughts stay up with the moon trying to exercise the demons in hismind. Too intelligent, withal spiritual for his own peace. A shaman, unstuck intime. A stroke of genius and a slap in the face of this world. Always restless,searching for answers. tearaway(a) and inspired, writing down his thoughts.Funny stories about Elvis and his followers, the Elvi, or dirty poetry.Painting his visions on sheets that hang from the eaves or painting me withpsychedelic designs. It doesnt matter which. all(prenominal) of it makes me want himmore.     Some things I say to him are like sour notes played too often. Im outof tune. He always sings along. Our waltz is better than most, I suppose. Weknow the steps by heart. The world moves quickly around us and our quietdrunken pace, but we dont care. Our minds move quickly despite this worldspetty distractions. Its us and them, and were the only two sane people left.     He makes me nervous, still. His dreams are bigger than both of us.W hen we speak the words fall from my lips. They arent enough to explain who Iwant to be. I am so flawed. He says, "Sometimes people have imperfectionsthat are worth living with. Youre a little eccentric. Its part of yourcharm." This man knows me, and loves me anyway. He is crazier than I am.     Eight years might as well be a thousand where were concerned. Historyhas roots that go deep. They go to the center of the earth and back and wrap