His aunt always insistedthat he wake early normally, but today was special. His mother wascoming to pick him up today, and that meant extra time was n...eded to getready. It was 6:30 A.M.James' head pivoted around, taking in the room. Today would be his lastmorning here. The walls were painted pink, the carpet a white shag. Onthe walls hung paintings- paintings of a cute little sheep, and a girlin an antiquated frilly dress. On the white wooden nightstand was a vaseof flowers. A shelf contained. She was happiest there too, and trying to relocate to happiness had a futile ring to it, but she no longer cared for misery either. A woman can’t simply be happy. A woman can’t search for it either. For her happiness either just came or didn’t no matter where she went. Such was the female poet’s dilemma. While she pushed herself to greater heights, there was always something weighing her down, dragging her below the earth no matter how hard she tried. It seemed to her like an odd paradox—the. More

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