Part 1Mature

This is a mini-story about a young woman who wants to be a motivational speaker.

Gray pastures...the once green grass, has, over an unknown amount of time, died. Ashen trees, with not a leaf in sight to adorn their branches. Perhaps they've all blown away. Empty nests, where the birds used to be, sit there in the trees, the only reminder that there were living things here at some point. They too, have left this forsaken area.

That which was once teeming with multiple signs of life, is now a desolate wasteland. Where the delicate flower petals were once beautiful and colorful, now they are stark and withered, not so pretty anymore.

An ache fills my heart as I survey the land with exhausted eyes. Where is home? I wonder. I am utterly lost, stuck in absolutely unfamiliar surroundings. How will I ever find my way out of this place?

My only source of light is partially hidden by dreary clouds, the sun that cannot give energy to this lifeless location. I can see no blue above me. The sky is gray, as dull as the land beneath it.

Horrible scenes start to flash through my mind. The way I came to be where I currently am. Someone had taken me from a sidewalk, even though there had been people nearby. No one had suspected a thing. Why, may you ask? Because it had looked like I was going with my captor. I assumed it had been some form of mind-control.

My memory was slightly hazy as I tried to recall certain details. Like who she was, the woman who had been driving the car who'd dropped me off in this spot, then sped away, leaving me without food or water; I realized that I would probably die out here, if I wasn't strong enough to endure this. I tried to think of what she looked like. All I can remember is that she had bright red hair. Her face was fuzzy in my mind, like one of those blurry censors they place over someone's face to protect their identity. I can't remember any significant features that would allow me to identify her, or even give an accurate description to a sketch artist.

It's not like I mattered to a single soul, other than myself. My family is far away, and I wonder if they even noticed I was gone. My mother is always so self-absorbed in herself, and my father gambles away what little money he manages to earn at his construction job.

Having no siblings made it so they expected me to do everything, as far as chores went. Those I don't mind, but when they have high expectations of me, telling me to enter a field where I can earn tons of money so I can "take care of them." Like degrees come that easily. How can they expect that out of me when they barely completed highschool with less than average grades? That is what I find highly irritating.

And besides, that's not what interested me. I wasn't seeking wealth. Far from it. No, what I want to do is be a motivational speaker, so that I can help others, maybe inspire someone. I feel as if there's a great deal of wisdom inside my mind, but I'm still discovering it, and making it as amazing as it can be.

This gives me something to strive for. I have to survive this. If not for myself, then for the others I can possibly inspire with my words.

I'm so tired. I haven't slept in days. But I fear if I close my eyes, they won't open again. I have to stay conscious.

More memories floated to the surface of my mind. There had been a room. Their ages and ethnicities varied, and they all looked haggard, close to death. I remember the horrible stench that had come from that room, the misery had felt palpable. They'd looked at me as if I was there to rescue them. Believe me, I'd wanted to save them, but it was at that point that I found a gap in my memory. There was only blackness, and then, I was standing on the sidewalk, near a popular restaurant, The Chicken's Farm. The next thing I knew, she'd taken me.

So, that's why I was here. Because of what I had witnessed.

Getting back to my dream and goal of being a motivational speaker now. I knew with certainty that I would get through this, and it would be my dream that motivated me to stay awake. I'd already tried walking in several directions. I didn't feel like trying that again. So, as I fought to stay awake, I decided to once more "think" my speech. I didn't have the strength to use my voice, so I simply closed my eyes, and thought it. This is the speech I compiled, what I would use as a first public speaking subject. I ran it through my mind again:

'Words have a tremendous amount of power in them. Never allow yourself to be persuaded otherwise. An absolute truth exists in every word we speak. Why would you not say what you feel?

Some people like to distort this truth. However, ask anyone if words have either lifted them up, or broken their spirit. Why is that? Because words, either whispered, uttered, said, or screamed, they have power. Words are used to communicate, when speaking, or used to convey a meaning, when writing, or used to acquire information, or tell a story, when reading.

Words are literally everywhere, and they can impact many things. They are used in everyone's daily life. We speak, and we read, and we (those of us who do) write. So, these points being made, it is clear to say that words are somewhat (for some) but for me, very important.

Without words, and the ability to effectively connect letters to words to sentences to paragraphs, we wouldn't be able to learn very much at all. History would be non-existant, other than what people would hear by word-of-mouth. So would books, and poetry, plus every other form of writing that exists today. Medical texts, historical documents, plays, movie scripts, newspapers; those are examples of things that use words on a daily basis. There are constant and numerous other daily functions that use words as a means of communicating or that serve as a way to educate and inform us.

Imagine for a moment, a world without words, a planet where speech is obsolete and never used. What type of life would people lead if they didn't ever talk? Without words, life would be dull, empty, and rather, in my opinion, boring and meaningless.

Words have power. I keep pointing this out because it's true. If you wanted to express to someone how you are feeling, what would be the easiest way to do that? Yes, they could tell from your facial expressions or body language, perhaps a small amount of what you are feeling, but they wouldn't thoroughly understand your intent without hearing your words. I've already stated several points, but I'd like to make a few more.

How many of you have had someone hurt you verbally with words (either harsh or hateful, or in any way demeaning)? Okay, now let's reverse that. How many of you have done the exact same thing at some point to someone else? In both cases, words can be used as a weapon.

There's a few sayings that come to mind here. "If you didn't mean it, you wouldn't have said it."

People generally will say what they are feeling or whatever is on their mind. But you can't always take words at face value. Some people literally say everything that pops into their head, while others think carefully about each word they say. It's amazing how our brains make connections and allow us to think and react and speak, all seemingly without effort. We can thank God for giving us these qualities, and life itself.

The other saying I've heard is that sometimes, or most of the time, "emotional and verbal abuse hurts more, and can be more difficult to overcome, than physical abuse." Scars will arise with every bodily cut and scrape you will ever have, but scars imprinted on your heart will sometimes stay with you for the duration of your entire life. No one who has ever lived, I don't think, has said that life is easy, and if they have said it, I disagree entirely. Nothing in life is effortless. It all takes effort. This is the end of my first lecture.'

The End

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