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Written by normschooldropout
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Tuesday, 13 October 2009 |
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someone told me something i've never even heard any of the greatest historical icons match on the power of emotional honesty. this man was nothing like them, he wasn't well known, he had a boring low-pay job, no friends, and no family. he went to work every day, and did what he supposed to. never talked to anyone never smiled, and anyone who walked by him wouldn't even look up once let alone give him a second thought. the only time they'd ever say anything to him was to tell him there was a mess in some other hall way. all he'd do was politely nod and go about his work as a janitor for a high priority law firm. i was there that day because i had a court hearing for a revoked probation. unfortunately i let my nervousness get the best of me. i broke down on a court date that didn't go well. i was angry in tears and ready to accept suicide as the only permanent release available in the world completely free of charge. but my life changed dramatically in the next half hour that had past. i was the first person he had spoken to in years. that was definitely enough to shut me up and make me listen. he spoke quietly but he very firm about what he was saying. he asked me how old i was. i was sixteen at the time, and angry to boot. he told what i didn't want to hear, he said it was only gonna get worse. i started crying, something i hadn't done in a long ass time. he was silent for brief moment. when he began to talk again he told me to look around that room at all the people working there. he asked if i knew why they all acted the same with the same fake smile, and the same honey covered voice that got got them all from one pay check to the other. i didn't know the answer to that question. he did. he told me they learned that smile in the mirror in the bathroom of their own home. they had to wake up every morning and lie to themselves the hard part for them was smiling about it too. he said i had more potential than they could dream of. he said to many people kill themselves before ever even live. and that all these money hungry lawyers would never be as rich as the soil where victims of there own device were buried. that ground was the richest ground in the world, rich with memories and dreams, and bright futures that could have been. that ground was also the poorest ground in the world. poor with agony and pain, and poor with the mournful tears of heart-aching family and friends. and the chains that would never let them go. i lived far from that courthouse but managed to go back seven months later to tell him he mad made a difference. he had passed away about a month before my return. i had inquired about the location of his grave. it was in a cemetery about four miles north of the town, under the name chester t. smith. while i was at his grave i realized that though chester may have not made written history. he did write a part of mine. and that like the rest of the world, without that history i would have had no future.
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Last Updated ( Wednesday, 21 October 2009 )
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