John knew he was lost.  How did he get to this point?  He can remember always being so happy and care free.  He never needed anyone to validate himself, he had once been a person unto himself.  He was filled with pride and dignity.  Now he was wondering aimlessly.  One second, he was walking along a desolate road, the next, he was walking through a maze of vines and shurbs.  He wasn't quite sure what had drawn him to leave his path, he just seemed pulled in the direction he now went.  The maze seemed to go on forever.  Turning left, then right, then back the way he had come.  Where was he going?  The question kept poping up in his mind as he walked, and yet, somewhere, in the recesses of his mind, he knew where he would end up.  Right, left, right, back, forward, left, right, forward; it seemed endless.  At one point, he tried to go right through one of the walls of vines and shurbs, but it was impenetrable.  He thought about turning back, but that idea was quickly shoved aside.  He had to push on and see what was at the end of this maze.  Right, left, right, right, left.  And then, up ahead, he saw a golden glow.  It radiated a beautiful yellow essence that seemed to fill him with inner peace and happiness.  Then he came to the end of the maze, and it opened into a  clearing encircled by vines and shurbs.  In the center of the clearing, stood a golden statue of a beautiful woman.  She was goregeous in every way: from her hair, to her smile, from her lips, to her legs.  Everything about her sang beauty in its purest form.  John was captivated!  Was this what he was drawn to?  If so, why?  There was a marble bench that laid roughtly 10 feet in from of the statue.  John walked over to the bench and sat down.  The bench felt warm and accepting; comforting.  He gazed up at the woman, fixated on her eyes.  They shined with independance and self assurance; confidence.  In all its beauty, John could see no flaws.  She was perfectly cut, as if to be carved out of solid gold.  

John sat for what seemed like hours just starring.  In all its glorious grace and beauty, John began to see the flaws that resided in himself.  His passivness, his unwillingness to make a decision, his need for validation and acceptance.  He grew angry at the statue, hating it for how if made him feel so inadequate.  He rose from the marble bench and franticly raced towards the statue.  Uttering curses, he screamed at the beautiful figure for her prefection.  He hated her.  He loathed her.  He cried out in pain and anguish, for he knew that he could not feel good about himself with her perfection towering above him.  It was then, that he looked down.  Lying on the ground was a stone.  The stone was perfectly rounded, glossy and jet black.  He picked up the perfect black stone and it felt warm in his hand.  It felt as if it had no weight to it.  He turned it over and on the other side there was a small scar.  Like himself, the stone was imperfect.  John walked back over to the warm and comfortable bench and stood upon it.  He turned to look at the beautiful golden statue.  Her face filled with self love and her own glorious perfection.  John then looked down at the stone.  It seemed to speak to him, telling him to loose the stone at the statue in order to blemish her, and make her imperfect.  John looked up once again, wound up, and loosed the stone at the woman.  The stone felw through the air with the grace and speed of an eagle.  It connected with the right cheek of the lady and left a sizeable scar on the right side of her face.

John got down from the bench and sauntered over to look at his handy work.  The statue no longer glowed with radiant beauty, but was dull and tarnished.  The scar seemed to radiate into the statue self doubt and imperfection.  John smiled.  He no longer felt so imperfect, but felt equal to the once glorious statue.  He was filled with pride and self confidence.  He looked passed the statue and saw an opening in the shrubs at the end of the clearing.  He took one final glance at the inadequate statue, and then walked towards the clearing.  This time, there were no right and left turns, no thick shrub walls; just a dirt trail that led back to the road John originaly came from.  He walked on, more sure of himself then he had ever been.  

Had John have looked back in the direction of the statue, he would have seen a glorious golden glow that emenated from the statue of a beautiful woman.  It would have filled him with inner peace and happiness.  The scar that had once blemished her right cheek had vanished, and what was left was a perfectly beautiful statue of a woman, who had accomplished her task.