Sunday, 24 November 2013

A Thousand Questions

I wrote this story to get the reader thinking. It is different from what I have written before but I like it and I hope you do too!

Humans are fascinating. The way they walk, run, talk, eat, and behave. You can find out a lot about people by just watching their movements, their conversations and the way their eyes dart when someone taps them on their shoulder. But the question that really strikes my mind is -WHY? Why do these people do what they do?

Most people think I am a creepy girl who contents herself by “spying” on people but I am not a spy. I simply observe different people in their natural surroundings. Like this one time, I was in Central Park and I was feeding the thousands of pigeons that circled above the grassy lands and the green trees in hope to find someone who has a smallest bits of food with them. I just sat there mindlessly for over an hour throwing all the seeds from the little bag and watched this woman trying to handle this little boy who was throwing a fuss. I watched her as she struggled just trying to put a sweater on the boy. I guessed she was the nanny. I could tell because the boy wore cashmere and the full-grown brown haired woman wore polyester.

This other time, I was watching this man who was trying to sell his fruit in the park, walking around yelling “Fresh Fruit!” on the top of his lungs as if his life depended on selling every single piece of fruit on that day. I decided to buy an apple from him after I saw him get attacked by the pigeons who were basically biting each other trying to get the rotten mango. He managed to get rid of them by throwing the mango into the fountain which within seconds of his throw was hounded by pigeons. He wore a red shirt and black pants. He sported a torn apron and broken shoes. I suspected that he was one of the lone indigent people who travelled around the city trying to sell whatever they managed to get their hands on.

The city New York was a place for people to find themselves and who they want to be. It is home to Broadway and many famous stars and yet it is home to thousands of people who don’t have it as good as other do, like the one I saw in the park. I have lived in New York for over twelve years and just so you know, I am 15 years old. I live in a small house around the central park with my mom and dad and my little sister, Nina. My name is Danni Kid. I was born in Kansas City and spent two and a half years of my life there and then we relocated to New York when my dad got a job as a salesman in Janice and Johnny Inc. He makes just enough money for a small house, food and occasional new clothes. My sister has spent all 7 years of her life here and has been to Kansas only once to visit our grandparents. I gained an interest in people watching when I was 12 and I would say that I am an expert at it. I know how to watch someone without letting them know that I am watching. Only the best people watchers can do that. I have not yet discovered myself yet. High school is torture, well mainly the classes and all the kids and teachers except for my two best friends, Alana and Kimberly. They are the only ones who understand me. My mom is way too spiritual. She spends all her time doing yoga or listening to weird music. Not that I have a problem with it  but it just gets annoying sometimes. My sister? Well, let’s just say she likes pink. I hate pink. Its like the barbie of all colours. I hate barbies. My favorite color is transparent, it has no meaning, you can see straight through it. That’s me. I have no secrets, you can see right through me.

Anyways, back to the sport of people watching. Have you ever wondered how the difference in peoples behaviour affects how others see them? Well, I was watching this guy. He was dressed in black and his hair was long enough for someone to mistake him for a girl. He sat behind a fence and his iPod was plugged in. He sat there covering himself from the burning sun as if he was afraid that he would melt if he came in contact with the sun. I don’t see why. He was wearing like 5 layers. He sat there with his eyes closed as if he was trying to really understand the lyrics of the music he was listening to when he was interrupted by a bouncing ball that came his way. A little blonde boy approached him slowly as if he was scared. The guy picked up the ball and handed it to the boy and gave him a creepy stare. The boy screamed and ran away scared by the way he looked. The fact that the guy bothered to give the ball to him instead of just staring at him showed that he was sensitive and was trying to help the boy. Why do people judge others from the way they look? The guy might have a completely different personality that he never got to show because no one was willing to give him a chance only because of the way he looked.

This other time, I saw this girl. She looked like a human barbie. Her hair was blonde and dead straight. She wore a tight red shirt and mini skirt, which was pink. She was a combination of the two things I hate, pink and barbies. The most disturbing thing about it was that there were 3 guys following her like her own little puppies. Which brings me back to my original question, why?

Why do people do what they do? Why do they judge something from it’s looks? Do you know why?

2 comments:

  1. Agree, people like to judge the book by its cover......Love your writing as always, your thoughts amaze me.

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  2. Lovely, thought provoking, and very captivating!

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