Page 43 - Student: dazed And Confused

not for sure. But for the girl, it was so real that she couldn't erase any of it from her
memory. It was all so vivid to her that she couldn't forget it if she tried.. Me? I've spent so
long with those memories imprinted on my brain that I can recall every detail. I remember
every single person that was hurt, everything that was damaged, that her story just seems
to flow from my pen.
The world in which I live may seem like a horrible future to anyone reading this, but
if the world carries on the way that it is, I'm afraid ot is an inevitable one. The area
surrounding this building is countryside, but away from that it is a torched wasteland,
certain populated areas crammed with stark, metal buildings, roads jammed with cars.
Inhospitable is the word I'm looking for. People hardly talk to each other, conversation is

almost an unknown word, a forbidden concept.
In here, though, in my sanctuary, I can dream about how things might have been. I
don't know if things might have been different if we had shared our pain, or if things are so
cruel because people shared their pain. This may have all been part of the Big Plan - I'm not
sure. I always knew that Nature would get even with us for all the times we abused it, for all
the times we took it for granted.
This is reality - harsh, cruel, daunting. But we only have ourselves to blame for that
- it's what we make it; nothing else. We can't blame anything else for the fact that people
are afraid to speak freely, nor reject responsibility for the barren environment. But this girl

of my story didn't know what she was doing. She believed that she could find solace in
Nature, even though her problems weren't borne of Nature. The world has changed so
much I'm not sure I really recognise it when I look out of the window. Though of course, I
do. These worldly problems are man-made, though I like to think Nature has played a part
in the suffering. Maybe that makes me a bad person to think like that, words of evil. Is it
wrong to feel a tiny bit satisfied at the planet taking out some of its pain on its inhabitants
the way that they took their pain out on it?
The girl didn't know what she was doing, couldn't understand how something so
special could be so wrong. Youth was both a blessing and a curse for her. But, her age
wouldn't excuse her from what she did. I'm truly sorry for what she did all those years ago,

but I can't change that. I can tell you about it in the hope that you take heed of it and
prevent yourself from following in her footsteps; I'll never be able to make what she did
right, though. I can try to explain why she did what she did, how she never meant for
anyone to get hurt. I can hope that you pay attention to this and do not find yourself stuck
in the world that I am.
I wasted so many years trying to understand, thought I could justify what happened
if I could put some kind of reasoning behind it. I desperately wanted to sympathise with the
girl, and tell her that what she had done wasn't wrong. I couldn't do that. I couldn't lie
about it. Even writing this, I can't make up lies and tell you that she had an excuse for what

she did - she had a reason; but no excuse. There's a difference between them - one that
most people don't see - a reason tells you why something happened, an excuse makes it all
right. I don't have an excuse for spending most of my life trying to figure her out; I have a