“I wish I could be like you.”
Words. Meaningless, utterly hypocritical. Do they even know what they are talking about?
She could have stated her mind. She simply chooses to smile in response.
“You’re flattering me.”
She knows they only want to be at the same receiving end as her. So does everyone else.
It’s strange. Fear is all pervasive. And more than anything else, it is the fear of rejection that permeates through the strongest wills.
No wonder, the dying art of being oneself...
She is no exception to the rule. The flame of accomplishment has engulfed her entirely.
But she knows who she is.
It takes her a mere glance in someone’s eyes to figure they had already traded their souls for the drudgery of a cut-throat life.
“You...you really don’t know what you truly desire, do you?”
A sigh, often a sad smile in response. Voice tingling with untold emotions.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
Victim. An ugly word – speaking of injustice and aggravation meted out from the hands of others.
Who dares to call destiny the victimiser?
“No one gets you. How can you be so calm in the face of such provocation?”
She smiles yet again.
“I don’t believe in others controlling me. I call the shots.”
“Who has the time to waste after such frivolities?”
She sighs. Those blind, ignorant creatures, audacious enough to call something as basic as pleasure,
scratch that, satisfaction as ‘frivolous’.
They don’t know when their own grave will catch up with them, forcing them to lie forever in the cold gloom while they had hardly begun to clutch at the warm sunshine.
“Perhaps you would live...if only others chose to do the same.”
Eyes closed, breath withdrawn...she tiptoes, arms stretched wide, hair fluttering in the breeze.
The world before her is still, bathed in the effervescent glow of nature.
She’s a part of that world.
She doesn’t belong here.
“If only I look as good as...”
She laughs mockingly. This time she doesn’t mince her words.
“Look within or you will be another living mannequin.”
“Help me. I’m lost.”
She searches their eyes, ‘the window to the soul’. The fire has died.
She looks away.
“Even if I were to help...you would be lost again.”
“I need another chance.”
She pins them with a questioning look.
“Chance? What did you with the one already given?”
Obstinacy finds its way here too.
“We haven’t lived for ourselves. No one does.”
“Then why need another life?”
“I don’t want to die.”
“Because, because...there’s no reason why one would leave life!”
Her eyes are downcast as she mulls.
“You’re in love with yourself.”
Confusion. Puzzlement. Isn’t one supposed to love oneself first?
She smiles, softly, gently. Like an angel. Like a fairy.
“You’re not the role, as memorable as it might be.”
The role is cast away. The essence glimmers.
Her eyes close.