Saturday, 14 July 2018

Was She Wrong?


As if her friend, darkness had stayed with her for a very long time. She was invisible. People threw rock at her like she was not a human being. She did not understand why, all she knew was just: People could be so mean, even when you did nothing to them. Yet she chose to struggle over to suffer from the pain. Life was hard—there were some bastards and there was no lifeguard. She ought to be her own bodyguard until she saved from the drought, and walked to a route that brought her proud.

A little spotlight lightened the darkness that had haunted her for years. With her in the center, the ambiance changed significantly as if she was born to be seen. Praised and complimented frequently, this was a definite moment when a big smile covered her face frequently. Over victory and victory, she was the star without anxiety.

Forest Gump said that life was like a rollercoaster, indeed. And it felt so fuckin’ real when two years later—like an old friend who had been lost for a while, the darkness came saying hello again. She arrived in a haunted place where darkness seemed darker. When no one shouted at her, just scary voices all over. She needed a supporter, not an asshole who turned a dreamer into a loser.

This was a chapter when everyone who supposedly a supporter became an aggressor. She wanted to dedicate her life as an author, at least for the moment, trapped in a small room where she turned her imagination into something real was a form of happiness. Yet no onenot a single one was giving her enough time. Instead, they were pushing her into a big big hole consisting of thousands of people living the same way that they called ‘a proper place.’

No power. No supporter. Just need a savior.

Give up.

Weeping every night for the things she never dreamt of, she was upon the ‘proper place’ as they called. Sprawled on the rock, incapacitated, yet they clapped her for the things she wasn’t fond of. Ironical, as she called.

Hence, she began to wonder for her perspective on life. Ironical it is—the world.




Init?





-Lista R

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