Koryn_Plunket Posted December 20, 2012 In every adolescent mind, a blueprint is being shaped. The foundation is set; it’s simply awaiting the skeleton and the furnishings. This foundation has quite the mixture of expectations, faith, and opinion. This foundation is undistinguished from others, and society speaks a language consisting of black and white words—black and white words that will influence black and white blueprints. It seems as though these blueprints require this language—a language I have not mastered. Those like me, who speak in terms of grey, fade into the background or condemn their own nature, strip their own tongue to speak a language of black and white. It seems tragic. Though, I’m not sure this life of grey is not tragic—living with a schism of the heart. Over and over I have heard doctors announce that this schism is easily stitched. They've just asked that I explain exactly how I want it to be sewn back together. See, the two different parts are to merge as if they were one. They aren't one. There are distinctively two parts of this grey: black and white—except it’s more like “BWLHAICTKE”. The doctors would not see what they were cutting and what they are stitching—they could very well segregate something vital from my body. I could lie in satin all day; artisans could paint my grey heart a violent red. However, the foundation will eventually crack the red. Steady strokes of the brush would progress to slow, long sweeps—until the artisan of the evening grew weary and bored of the grey hole. Society has written black, bold lines on my virgin paper as if it was their birth right. I hate such a vile violation of individualism, but I placed the paper in the network of blueprints. To my dismay, it was a true fit. However, it does not suit me well.