Sociological Imagination Meaning

After confirming I was pregnant, I suddenly heard my husband’s inner voice. “This idiot is still gloating over her pregnancy. She doesn’t even know we switched out her IVF embryo. She’s nothing more than a surrogate for Elle. If Elle weren’t worried about how childbirth might endanger her life, I would’ve kicked this worthless woman out already. Just looking at her makes me sick. “Once she delivers the baby, I’ll make sure she never gets up from the operating table. Then I’ll finally marry Elle, my one true love.” My entire body went rigid. I clenched the IVF test report in my hands and looked straight at my husband. He gazed back at me with gentle eyes. “I’ll take care of you and the baby for the next few months, honey.” However, right then, his inner voice struck again. “I’ll lock that woman in a cage like a dog. I’d like to see her escape!” Shock and heartbreak crashed over me all at once because the Elle he spoke of was none other than my sister.

My boyfriend's childhood sweetheart bound herself to a transfer system: everything she ate would be redirected straight into my stomach. She opened a streaming account and broadcast herself eating for twelve hours straight. She earned a fortune. Meanwhile, I collapsed with acute pancreatitis and was rushed to the hospital. When I explained the situation to my boyfriend, he only stared at me like I was insane. "How could something that absurd exist? If food could really be transferred, no one in the world would ever starve. You're just jealous that she's making money from streaming." After that, every time his childhood sweetheart went live, I ended up hospitalized again. I kept hovering between life and death. I sought medical help, but the doctors couldn't explain my condition. Some even wanted to commit me to a psychiatric ward. Then, one day, in order to outdo her rivals in a PK match, she devoured ten pounds of rice in a single sitting. At that very moment, my spleen and stomach ruptured, and I bled to death on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of her very first livestream. This time, I was prepared. I rushed out and bought twenty takeout meals. "This time," I said, "I'll eat first."

I'm diagnosed with a rare, incurable disease. A wonder drug that is being auctioned off is my last chance at survival. However, upon winning the bid for the said drug, my parents hand it to my older cousin, Annie Harper, who is suffering from infertility instead. This time, I will not make a fuss. I will even purchase a variety of supplements for Annie. My fiance tells me that Annie deserves to be married off splendidly. He wants to give his wedding gifts, which were originally meant for me, to her instead. I consent willingly. On top of that, I transfer both the house and the car he purchased for me to Annie. My parents have relief and delight written on their faces. "You've finally grown up and understood that Annie needs this medication more than you do because she's getting married." My dad says, "Once I've attended the medical symposium for rare diseases and completed the dissection of a patient's cadaver, I will be able to develop a cure for you." Nonetheless, seven days later, I have become the cadaver meant to be cut open by my father. My primary physician calls my father out in public at the symposium, pointing him out as an unethical doctor who gave my life-saving medication to Annie. My parents and boyfriend are criticized by the audience for being murderers. Yet, they firmly believe that this is how I'm getting back at them. They intend to reveal my memories to the public so that everyone learns that I deserved to die.

I was born with a rare condition. My blood carried healing properties strong enough to neutralize any poison. When Garrett Frank, the young heir from Osbury, was bitten by a venomous snake, he was hanging by a thread. In that desperate moment, I slit my wrist and used my blood to cleanse the venom from his body. Only later did I find out that whoever saved Garrett's life would become the future Mrs. Frank. But after Garrett took over the family business, the first thing he did was drain every drop of blood from my body and have me chopped up and fed to his dogs. "At that time, Loretta had already brought the antidote," he had said coldly. "If you had just waited another five minutes, I could've married her openly and honorably. "But you had to interfere. You stole her place as Mrs. Frank, drove her into despair, and pushed her to take her own life. Since you claim your blood can cure any poison, let's see how much antidote it can make." They bled me dry and threw me into a cage for his dogs. I died there, torn apart and unrecognizable. Afterward, my parents went bankrupt because of the Franks. Both of them took poison and died together. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Garrett had been bitten by the snake. Michelle Frank, Garrett's mother, looked at me with desperate hope. "I heard you have that rare healing blood," she said. "Will you please save my son?" I quickly shook my head. "That's just a rumor, Mrs. Frank. And honestly, using blood as medicine sounds pretty unsanitary. Please don't worry. I heard Ms. Huber is on her way with a special antidote. Your son will be fine!" Still, a small part of me couldn't help looking forward to what would happen. If I didn't step in this time, Garrett wouldn't just fail to inherit the family business—he'd be lucky to live another month!

My sister-in-law, Esmerelda Black, hates that her mother, Ruth Jennings, favors me. To make things worse, she has the ability to hear Ruth's thoughts. And she uses that gift against me. When I tell Ruth to have more vegetables to stay healthy, Esmerelda says, "Clara is such a cheapskate not to buy you meat. She doesn't ask her own mom to eat more vegetables." When I encourage Ruth to exercise more to build strength, she says, "Mom, you're already old. You should be taking it easy. Clara wants you to work yourself to death." Slowly, Ruth grows to hate me. In the end, Esmerelda acquires the family business, seizes the fortune, and trafficks me to North Maldia to die. However, when I open my eyes again, I have her gift too—I can also hear Ruth's thoughts.

I opened my eyes to a sharp sting in my arm. Pushing up my sleeve, I froze. A dense line of jagged letters had been carved into the skin of my right forearm: [This house has monsters! Every time I'm killed, I'm thrown into a loop and lose all my memories. With each death, I mark my hand.] Beneath the warning, three crooked tally marks were etched deep into my arm.

In my previous life, the apocalyptic haunts descended without warning, and the whole world plunged into a living hell. After two days of starvation, my husband and mother-in-law tied me to a chair. I begged them desperately, but they did not spare me. Instead, to keep their "food" fresh, they sliced the flesh straight from my leg. When I was reborn, I spent every last cent of my fortune to hold a grand, extravagant funeral, for myself. My husband and mother-in-law thought I had lost my mind. However, what they had not known was this: anyone who buried themselves could claim the treasures laid to rest in their own coffin: golden coins that could command the anomalies of the end times. Which meant that with this extravagant funeral, I would stand invincible when the apocalypse arrived. That time, without me as their "meat" and scapegoat… I would see how long they lasted.

My boyfriend tells me he's a monster in a game, but I think he's lying. What monster would have washboard abs and defined obliques? And what monster would keep asking me for hugs and kisses? Everything changes when I end up in a survival game one day. I'm stuck in a dark, cold ocean when the main boss of the game, a scary tentacled monster, entangles me in its grasp. When it speaks, the voice is gentle and familiar. "Kiss me, Ara."

It's been five years since I started trying to win over Zachary Pierce. I even went so far as to have a child through IVF, hoping it would finally make him care. But no matter what I do, I can never reach 100 percent affection from him. It always stays at 99 percent. Sometimes it even drops lower. One day, exhausted and aching, I go looking for him. As I reach his room, I hear laughter coming from inside. "She still hasn't figured out the egg wasn't even hers. The moment the baby was born, Zach's affection score for her dropped to zero." "So what if she finds out? She should be grateful that her face looks so much like Yvonne's. Honestly, I'm done entertaining her. It's exhausting." At that moment, everything clicks. All the hope I've held onto, every sacrifice I've made, they were all just a joke. I turn away and say to the system, "End this for me. Send me to another world."

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"