Poverty is just an endless pit. It's like this: You're sitting in your comfortable chair by your window, looking at the sun shine. It's always sunny; you sometimes begin to wish things would change a little. Suddenly, a few drops of rain come down. Then more. The rain looks beautiful against the sun, and now it's burning rays are more subtle. After a few moments, you begin to want to go outside and feel the rain. You get up, walk to the door, and go outside. The rain feels light and sunny against your face, but the longer you stay out, the heavier the rain gets and dark clouds being to cover the sun. You lose your way. The sky is too dark, and the needle-like rain blinds you. As you're stumbling through the mud to find a clear path, you slip and fall. You're on a slope, and the mud makes you slide faster. Faster, and faster, and faster you slide, screaming for help, not knowing what lies beyond. The slope steepens, and finally you land in a horrible muck. As you look up, you notice how deep down you are. The rain keeps pouring, and you can't get out. The problem is, you're getting sucked into the mud. It's up to your calves, your knees, your thighs...slowly, the mud envelopes you. The merciless rain is beating down on you still, like an endless tormentor. You can only struggle a bit and pray you get out, but now the mud is up to your chest. There's no escape.

That's how poverty is. A weird analogy, but so true. Only the people who have been there understand the emotions and endless sorrow there is at the pit of life. The police don't know, because they've never been there. If they have, it's been too horrible for them to want to relive. That's why they hate us so much. We're either some dirty speck of life, crawling through the mud and acting as parasites to society, or a horrible, ever-living nightmare of a memory. Or some self-righteous people think of it as this way: The only way to poverty is by sin. You cheated on your husband, he kicked you out of the house, and now you're in the gutter. You had a jolly drink one night and gambled too much. You lost of all of your money, and now look! You're begging for food. They don't have any respect for sinners. Sometimes, another person's sins are what bring you here. Why must we pay for another's transgressions?

Life isn't fair. That's what they all say. It's true, but I really wish it wasn't. It's amazing how just one simple act of mercy can save a person's dignity, well-being, sanity, and life. In my case, it could save two lives. Oh, but the top half of society is just too stupid and blind to even THINK about any act of mercy towards us. That's why poverty will always be there. Poverty can't seem to die. Everyone else will die, but poverty will stay, welcoming anyone into it's cruel and cold arms, squashing away any life.

That's why I'm going to die soon. Yes, I'm very sick, and that's a sure way to death, though I look pretty healthy to some, but the sickness isn't what's totally killing me now. I once learned that everything in life was controlled by your mental actions. Right now, my mental state of health isn't good. I hate life, I hate myself, I hate men, I hate this whole world which sent me here. I want to die. I have the strongest feeling of death now. Oh, Heaven, let me die. Take my soul. I've waited here awhile now, and nothing happens. Nothing ever does. I seemed destined to stay here forever, living in misery and in hunger and prostitution forever. But I love Cosette. Oh, how dearly I love her! I want to hold her, love her, and protect her forever from this world. I'm going to rest now. Maybe I'll be in Heaven when I wake up. I don't know. My life is only going down deeper into the blackness, and I know there is no hope.

[Main Index] [More by Millie Prouvaire] [More about Fantine]
URL:
Provider: MV Communications