A Work of Fiction 2.0


This is what everybody thought for her to be. God had been pretty generous to her, and her entire clan in that department. And she was nothing but proud, very proud of that fact. People spelled themselves on her feet the moment she entered any place.

She was the Queen Bee of the lot. And certainly, she enjoyed all the attention showered on her. Even the ones from the not-so-good looking ones.

Her mere shadow rendered even the brave ones catatonic. Some in awe, some in fear.


That is how her posture was always.

Stoic. Proud. Fearless.

She never gave a damn to what others said about her. She was made of hard metal to let those things affect her. She was not in some denial. She knew what people talked about her. It was jealousy that spoke for them, and that word ceased to exist in her knowledge.

Growing up in an environment where image building was considered important. She knew how to keep her stance intact. She did not even feel the need to warm up in front of her sister, let alone anybody else. Even her best friend had not seen her complete existence. He saw what she wanted him to see. He felt whatever she made him feel. He loved whatever she exposed to him.

Little things failed to go through her. She survived much more than anyone could possibly. Her glassy existence had once been broken, the shards pricking her even now, persistently, numerous times. She had glued all those broken pieces with careless effort, and assembled a new woman. A grown woman crafted carelessly by the broken shards of her past.

She had had the perfect childhood, a young moppet of her age would wish for. Imported dolls with dolls houses size of her own 3ft being. Pink frocks, and matching accessories. Frequent trips to Disneyland and every other day, a meal at a fancy restaurant. But things changed one day. From both the siblings, she had always been the observant one. The one who could whiff things, and absorb.

Her father was accused of infidelity. Her perfect family had broken. And all that remained was a facade. Not for the world, but for her and her sibling. Her mother was quite close to walk out of the marriage, on the threshold, so as to speak. But both began to think as adults, and defenestrate the matter. They no longer where her parents, but they were two broken adults, living a mirage. Validating what society called a perfect family. There she saw, the first compromise of her life. The compromise that costed her her life, her existence and her identity.


Her existence was flawless. But yet, with burns that wounded her heart. Nobody could see those flaws, yes she was flawless to the world. In her heart, there was seldom a fire that burnt, wanting to spread across and transform her. But she extinguished it with her smile, the glassy, stoic but pink smile. The smile that fostered the truths, guarding her own self deep.

Her life now oscillated between giggling and laughing in the presence of others, and closing her ears at night to prevent hearing her soul speak to her. Shrieking from the walls of her insides, asking to be rescued, to come out and breathe. Every inch of lie pierced through her soul. It constantly knocked her, trapped inside her. The trap was so deep, so far away, it would always be unheard. Even if an inch of a sound came, she pushed it back further.

And the day, she vouched to keep herself happy, and staying away from the intricacies of coexistence. She promised herself to heal always, to hide the scars. Not because she was ashamed of them, she just feared the condolences.

Flawless to the world, she moved on.


There were some days that took a toll on her. Harnessed to the institution people called family, and values of the society, she dared defy her parents. But now, she was a wounded tigress. The mistakes of her significant ones pulled her back, she resisted falling the same pit again. She failed to realize that each person has its own. Each person makes their own set of mistakes and necessarily with the same outcome. She was not going to succumb to circumstances. She was going to fight, fight till the very end, and cut through the harness, and take her own flight. She was not going to let anything come in her way, come in between of her individuality.

She will find herself. She fill find herself in an altered reality, in a way she wants it to be. She will push down herself and make a person that is pleasing to the soul. She will transform, even at the cost of herself. She will make this  happen.

And the fight does not end so soon. Its a long going process, and she fears she might lose herself through it, which she was happy about.


Her life was rendered complicated. Her entire existence was rendered complicated. Her trust, brutally broken, made her complicated. Her persona was dazzling, left people to envy her, but rest assured, she was envious of their simple, uncomplicated life. They had their own space to breathe, to stop, to let it out, to heal. But she, she lacked this space, this air, and that suffocated her beyond measures.

Or maybe, she didn’t see through other’s struggles. She shut herself so much, she failed to empathize, she failed to see beyond herself, She failed to see the reality, living  in her own bubble. She failed to see, that though her struggle, her complication and her fight was real, it was not unique. Her struggle was true, but her perception was false.


Her entity was a mirage. 


The more you fetched it, the more it slid away from between the fingers.

Her soul attempted to crack from the trap she made for herself. Perhaps it needs to fight harder.


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