Victim
Ah, the good ol’ summertime. My thoughts occur less often, my heart beats
at a steady pace, and my breathing returns to normal. I look down at my bare feet, which are getting
darker and darker each moment, burning continuously under the sun. These moments will never return, because
before I know it the big ball of fire will go back into hiding, and the sky
will solely consist of dark clouds and white dust. Fearful of the future, I come to the
conclusion that I must appreciate these moments because each year the cold
season gets longer and the sun becomes more scared to come out. The trees become bare, the animals hide away,
and the droplets of rain turn into ice as soon as they touch the ground of the
earth. But I must keep fighting, because
the longer I bear the tough times, the more I will appreciate carefree moments
like these. I prance around in my white
dress, letting my long black hair loose, without worrying about a single
thing. No pressure, no bullies, no
fear. All of the chains are cut loose,
and everything I have ever known seems better than ever. I look to the right, then to the left, and
see that I am not alone. The birds
chirp, the bunnies hop, and the trees sway in the gentle breeze. But then I see her, and all of the memories
come back. The torture, the pain, the
tears: all of it returns to me. She
ruined me, and I wish she was never alive.
My happiness-- my pure joy—all of it ended after a single glimpse of the
devil that transformed my laughter into sorrow.
With her band of evil twins, she turned my life into a horror
story: I was scared to do anything. So I turned around, but I knew that there was
no way I could ever retrieve my previous moments of serenity. Not even the beauty of the world around me
can overtake my thoughts of hopelessness and regret. And it was all her fault.
Chandu Singathi
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