The Prince of the Worldly Paupers

In an instant the overwhelming sensation of being out in a public venue was once again
unbearable. With the swarms of busy people, the screams of misbehaving children, and the
pungentodors of various perfumes combined with the essence of pizza, the whole scene is
practically fatal, one could easily shrivel up and die while immersed in the chaos of a colossal
shopping mall. Navigating the building in its entirety is a daunting task for many shoppers: one would have to elbow away at the constant flow of trekkers with oversize lingerie bags and dodge kiosk salespeople who find that selling their product includes harassing innocent mall civilians with questions and lotion samples. As dangerous as this whole scenario may seem, this is exactly what draws people in, the rush of complete ignorance as one scans for breaks in the crowd to sprint across the clearing to get to the next shopping goal is just as much as an adrenaline rush that can be compared to jumping out of an airplane.
Adventure and dangers lurk in every corner; the mall is my territory and I am its keeper. As I begin to trek through dense swamps of perspiring people and wailing infants. I search for the rainbow colored signs that offer discounts and products that were just released in BOGO sales. I am the huntress prowling for the right pair of shoes, and of course at the right price as offered in the special discount. From my current position I spot the perfect shoes that exactly matched my new dress, and I the ruthless seeker plunge through the swarm of customers to reach my destination the candy colored shoes glistened in the harsh light of the store but just as close as they were in my clutches, the old tramp whisked the dream my feet one had. I glared at the old hag as she drowned in the cavorting giddiness of the pastel dress suits of “Ye old Sunday Church” croons accompanied by the old flat capped geezers of yesteryears.
While I rise at Sunday Cockcrow I open my closet to the same sorry scene of infinite hangers and no clothes other than the conformity of the now worn-out church dress. I like many girls my age, find that acquiring more clothes is the key to climbing up the social hierarchy of high school hallways, and I like many put aside spiritual matters and feed the materialistic ego. I often try to ignore the needy beast and try to focus more on my spiritual health but the urge to please my desperate impulse for compliments sometimes overrides the need for spiritual gain.
“I want” and “I need” are two very different phrases, to want something is to feel a need or desire for something, while to need is to indicate that a course of action is desirable or necessary. For instance, “I want a car,” versus, “I need shelter,” I don’t need a car because I have two feet and can walk to a bus stop, however I need a roof over my head in order to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Though I have a burning desire for many things, while I have many other material objects I feel that sometimes I forget the fact that I have a fortune compared to those who are less fortunate. While I have shoes, underwear and clothes, others have underwear and clothes but have no shoes, or have shoes, but no underwear or clothes, or have nothing but the wish to have shoes, clothes and underwear.
I am the prince of the worldly pauper; I wield the crown jewels and wear the fine robes. I walk about this dominion pompously and force peasants to kiss my feet. I am given the world in a glass vessel to prize and own. They hate me for what I have as my soul left its master and I find that in the corner where my heart used to be, I find a note that says, “Went to find hope.” For a long time I had believed my conquests to obtain the jewels of the contemporary world would grant me peace that the spaces I filled with possessions and goods would bring me tranquility. Yet the vacancy of my soul is tremendous, lackluster, and withering.
So I began to search for the cause of my internal disorder, I knew that after so many artificial fillers I needed substance of the philosophical kind. I was told that “true happiness begins with the appreciation of trifle things.” Looking around, I found nothing but cold objects and snarky goods. I buy these things for the glory, but glory only lasts a while until the memory of what you were defined by what you own fades into the epitome of being forgotten. True happiness is defined by those you love and little things that need to be cherished most. Nature in itself is a symbol of rebirth and death, though human life is not as cyclical as the ever changing elegance of Mother Earth, the chance to make something worthwhile is to start by changing the interior of one’s heart. The idea that I discovered was that the things I owned didn’t make me a person anymore or any less important than those around me, I was and I am just another simple, selfish and ordinary human being. With or without God I am not defined by my possessions, this realization lead the restoration of hope that my heart had searched so desperately all these years.