It’s not like she’s oblivious to her surroundings. She can see clearly, even when she’s underwater. It’s just that she can’t help herself acting in such a way, her body’s natural defence. And perhaps the fact that she’s helpless just makes her more disgusted at herself.
She hates who she’s become. She’s a real coward, only knowing how to hurt herself, pushing others away in the process, fearing that she’ll hurt them too. She’s only hurting herself, and perhaps those who love her as well. She’s a nervous wreck, each tiny ripple amplifying into a tidal wave, breaking her apart. She’s so easily shaken now, it’s as if she could fall apart any time. She’s fallen to the depths, unable to recall how to believe, how to have hope and faith. She doesn’t know what to think. She hates who she’s become.
She misses the real her. Perhaps not all is lost, perhaps the real her is locked up somewhere inside. And that’s where she starts faltering again. Who is the real her? What is she like? It feels like a riddle that she can’t seem to find an answer to. She had once believed in herself, that she could touch the sky if she wanted to. She had once been optimistic, bouncing back again from her sad times in a matter of hours. She had once trusted people so easily, that as long as she treated them sincerely, they would see her for who she really is. She misses the girl who had not been exposed to so many complications. She misses the girl who had been locked away safely sometime when the earth started trembling, threatening to crack open and swallow her whole. She misses the girl she had once been. She misses the real her.
Perhaps some time away would truly be good for her. It’s 7 in the morning, and she hasn’t fallen asleep yet. Not yet, she can’t. Too many things plaguing her sorry little mind. Perhaps she shan’t sleep today. At least, not until she gets on the plane later. But she can’t help but see herself on the plane, still unable to sleep. She’d probably be staring out the window looking at the clouds. And she would probably be thinking of how she wished that her troubles would be swept away with the wind, high up in the sky. She’ll keep silent, but she’ll be wishing for that little girl to return again, to teach her to be strong. Perhaps one day, she’ll be able to smile genuinely again.
“While I breathe, I hope.”
