The door opens into darkness. She peers into the void, trying to discern any trace of a normal, bustling home.
“I’m home,” she whispers. Silence greets her in response.
She sighs as she kicks off her shoes and hangs the keys over the rack. Closing the door to her room only adds to the finality of the quiet that pervades through the whole house.
She leans against the door, closing her eyes. The wood against her skin does nothing to reassure her.
“Reassurance for what?” she wonders. Reassurance for the fact that she was a victim of her circumstances – it wasn’t her doing that it was her mother’s critical behaviour, her father’s temperamental, volatile tendencies that wreaked havoc on this fragile castle of dreams they called their ‘home’?
She ambles towards the dressing table, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror.
Against the soft moonlight, her complexion is ashen. Her eyes are wide, speaking more of vulnerability than innocence. Her lip slightly trembled and imagined chills pricked her skin, making her shiver.
“Is this how everyone sees me?”
Frail, weak, prone to anguish. A helpless child trapped in not so benign environs, where at each step her makings of a genius are refuted and buried under the increasing weight of insecure acquaintances and selfish motives.
Or was it all her thinking?
Her hand extended towards the mirror, the fingers lightly caress the outline of her face.
Oh, what not she would have given to have someone hold her lovingly.
Tears run down her cheeks, but she is rendered catatonic.
“Just who…am I?”
She only wished she knew. Or someone knew.
But the answer was lost somewhere within her soul. She didn’t have the strength to seek what she needed the most.
She sinks onto her knees, her head hung low. The looming silence is only broken by her quick breathing.
Darkness seemed to be closing in. She moans, a wave of despair washing over her. Dragging herself to her bed, she curls up, waiting to be taken into an impenetrable slumber.
Sleep extends its arms in a lulling comfort, the only consolation she has ever known.
But then again, who ever knew of the sheer despondency she suffered through, day and night? The façade of strength doesn’t fade away, even against utter hopelessness.
“Is this what life turns out to be for everyone?” she wonders dreamily.
As always, her words echo and reverberate against the bare walls of an empty house, of a lonely heart…
Depressive, I know. However it's a result of the catharsis I had been going through. That's all I can say.