Sunday, July 4, 2010
Is it too late for her to feel safe? Is it that hard to be trapped in a world of a happy face? Why is it that hard for her to smile? Why can’t she be like any normal girl who walks the streets? She looks at her mirror and wonders. In her hands are bits of her hair, falling down like drops of rain, yet she can’t help but wonder, why do all those crazy things happen to her? She knows there’s a reason for everything, but she’s quite fed up. Not just totally yet, I suppose.
What is she going to do, that’s the real question. It’s always the paradox of choice that quivers her. She can’t seem to find a firm answer to all her decisions. For ages, she’s been much assertive, but lately nothing falls into place. Again, she feels her head itching and itching. It must be her hair falling down. Whenever she’s stressed, she collects a pound of hair in her hands. What a beautiful hair she had once. Most of her friends used to envy her for having such a rich and long classy hair. It’s the type of hair that turns all yellow in the sun, appears all brown in light, and brightens like a horse’s black skin at night. Indeed, hair is very important to a girl. People usually say, it’s her own crown of throne. A women loses a part of her with every grain of hair. Either she gains a new one or stays frozen and prays for the best to come.
After 15 mins of staring at the mirror in her room, she decided to write about it. That’s how she fights everything nowadays. If she’s every bothered with something, she writes about it. If her parents yell at her, she writes about abusive behavior. If she’s having her PMS, she explain the hormonal disorders. Even if she can’t bare to make breakfast, she will write about boredom. Then again, she’s not heard. She’s ultimately screaming and shouting from the bottom of her heart, but no one really listens to her. Most people think she’s an ignorant bitch who only listens to herself. No one knows how she suffers from old memories and how she hardly ever forgets an irritation.
All this, is not a big deal to her. She manages and survives. What really eats her heart out is not living the life she always wanted. She keeps waiting and waiting and waiting. She even thinks she’s the most pessimistic creature on earth. But, to tell you the truth, I don’t think she really is. I think she’s truly hoping for something to rock her world upside down and lifts her away from all the pain in the world. She suffered a lot and that’s too much for people to understand. All their demands and regulations feed on her. She can’t seem to know how to be happy anymore.
Everyone goes around telling her, it’s a life choice, it’s nothing but a state of mind. It’s not something you earn, it’s something you feel from the inside. But… no one tells her how or what. How is she supposed to feel when she’s happy? What does it feel like? What are the real qualifications of happy person? Is there still hope for her of ever becoming one? Will she start feeling fine after 60 years of suffering and laughter-departure? Did she really gain something in the end after all those years? Would that dream really come true?
Please… if someone knows the answer, tell me so I can deliver the message myself.
.. N.O.H.A ..