Rou

My name is Rou, but to those all around me, my name was Rou. Some would say I am a twinkling star which seems to shine brighter with each tear that falls when thinking of me, others might say I am the notes to my favourite song that dances like my past presence, but those who barely knew me, say I am dead.

I always used to wonder if our family and friends shaped and played our personality aswell as our ever changing moods, how each delicate wing of every dainty butterfly is unique - why couldn't us humans be unique like that? But what I wondered the most was what happens when you die, but what I knew back then, ever since I was seven, was that I didn't mind what happened. I just knew that's what I wanted to be. I wanted to be dead.

You see, unique is many things. Unique is the different lines in our finger tips, unique is the abstract shape of each cloud, unique is something, us as a population aren't very good at. All you want to be the same.

The 9 year old, little blonde haired girl, who always has her thin hair put up into plaits with pink scrunchies, only wants to have the long flowing, tree trunk brown hair of the 17 year old girl that lives 5 doors up.The very confused 18 year old boy who doesn't know or understand fully who he is, only wants to be like his father, straight and with children that are biologically his and his partners own.The 29 year old man wants the same BMW as his nextdoor neighbour knowing fully well that he can't afford it and that his old banged up fiat will have to do.The old women in her late 60's envies the couple in their seventies, the same couple that regularly walks in the park hand-in-hand whilst she sits their and feeds the ducks. She envies them for neither of them are widowed, like herself.

We are all born with a uniqueness that is fresher than an untouched layer of snow, it has not been fiddled with, it is pure. Not just the uniqueness in our genes, but a uniqueness in our personalities and what we see as beauty. So many of us lose that just by trying and wanting to be like others, when you look at if from where I am now - you see it all. When you are down there in that crazy place and you want to be like somebody else, you subconciously do things that you wouldn't normally do, you do things that are what the person you admire would do - yet you do not even realise it! We are all born with a uniqueness to us, but so many of us die as copies. Too many of us die with our messed up uniqueness that has been trampled on, we die with a layer of brown slush.

(a start of a story that I've been meaning to finish)