She was never like the rest of them.
She was more of a messy hair bun and oversized glasses than cascading luscious hair and a blood red lipstick. A new book caught her attention more than a new dress. An old yellow Classic with splattered ink made her swoon.
She wasn't from the other world, but she had just about a touch of normal.
Some would call her mad. But then again, she embraced that madness. There was a hint of serenity in her otherwise chaotic soul.
The madness drove her. Pushed her. Even though it meant being pushed away from certain heart fluttering moments, she floated on in the direction the madness drew her in.
In the ever confused world of impersonations where everyone wanted to be like someone and wanted her to be more like someone, she was at peace with herself. Well, almost.
In the short, terminal life that she led, she was labelled, judged, vehemently isolated and jeered at more than just once. So when someone jabbed at her heart until it broke, she didn't quite fret about it. It wasn't new to her. Nothing new at all.
She floated on as time would have her to. She ventured into new pastures, each greener than the previous. She gathered many a time bound friends on her journey to the final destination of happiness. Each took leave with every step taken. It's a cycle, she told herself. One should go for another to arrive. And she smiled, yet again. A smile fainter than what it used to be. But a smile, nevertheless.
Alone she may have been, but the journey she had taken was after all through the icy needles of society. It took from her. And oh boy, it took from her.
Her shoulders hunched with every step further now. The hands that had held others up now covered her own face in mistrust. The eyes that used to glisten now had been weighed down by the ghosts of self doubt.
Fearing the loss of her identity in the over-riding wave of sterotype, she moulded herself into what others perceived normal. The spontaneity withered. The realness faultered.
She was lost in her ownself, blinded by the idea of normalcy that they had set out for her.
Be more like her they said.
Be happier they said.
Be free. Be alive. Be youthful they said.
Be yourself, they never said.
There she was again, lost in the crossroads of the realm of happiness and the projection of the perfect girl.
She struggled to find herself again. Kicked frantically into the cuffs that held her down, gagging into the suffocation that societal expectations had caused.
She was one of them now. Limp, lifeless and not herself.
She had transformed into what she had been proud of not being. She had crossed over to the other side. She was a woman of many facades now.
Yet somehow, she was still one of a kind.
She was more of a messy hair bun and oversized glasses than cascading luscious hair and a blood red lipstick. A new book caught her attention more than a new dress. An old yellow Classic with splattered ink made her swoon.
She wasn't from the other world, but she had just about a touch of normal.
Some would call her mad. But then again, she embraced that madness. There was a hint of serenity in her otherwise chaotic soul.
The madness drove her. Pushed her. Even though it meant being pushed away from certain heart fluttering moments, she floated on in the direction the madness drew her in.
In the ever confused world of impersonations where everyone wanted to be like someone and wanted her to be more like someone, she was at peace with herself. Well, almost.
In the short, terminal life that she led, she was labelled, judged, vehemently isolated and jeered at more than just once. So when someone jabbed at her heart until it broke, she didn't quite fret about it. It wasn't new to her. Nothing new at all.
She floated on as time would have her to. She ventured into new pastures, each greener than the previous. She gathered many a time bound friends on her journey to the final destination of happiness. Each took leave with every step taken. It's a cycle, she told herself. One should go for another to arrive. And she smiled, yet again. A smile fainter than what it used to be. But a smile, nevertheless.
Alone she may have been, but the journey she had taken was after all through the icy needles of society. It took from her. And oh boy, it took from her.Her shoulders hunched with every step further now. The hands that had held others up now covered her own face in mistrust. The eyes that used to glisten now had been weighed down by the ghosts of self doubt.
Fearing the loss of her identity in the over-riding wave of sterotype, she moulded herself into what others perceived normal. The spontaneity withered. The realness faultered.
She was lost in her ownself, blinded by the idea of normalcy that they had set out for her.
Be more like her they said.
Be happier they said.
Be free. Be alive. Be youthful they said.
Be yourself, they never said.
There she was again, lost in the crossroads of the realm of happiness and the projection of the perfect girl.
She struggled to find herself again. Kicked frantically into the cuffs that held her down, gagging into the suffocation that societal expectations had caused.
She was one of them now. Limp, lifeless and not herself.
She had transformed into what she had been proud of not being. She had crossed over to the other side. She was a woman of many facades now.
Yet somehow, she was still one of a kind.
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