I am strawberry sweetheart

Prologue

The sun had set its morning gown as the townsmen began to wander from one place to another. Although this sunny day was marked with pleasant laughters, it is still inevitable to the changes brought by nature, especially when Mother Nature herself is on her period season.

The busy street filled with roaring engines and peoples' nonchalance to the shift of atmosphere was then muffled. The wind howled roughly and evoked a change of air turbulence as it signifies a storm fully-approaching with full speed.

Bits of liquid began to pour from the sunken-grayish sky, followed with the swirling echoes of the wind, as if the air within it is dancing in repeated melodies played by an angered pianist. 

As the raindrops pour, followed by the continual echoes of the wind, roaring vehicles, and stomping of heavy boots in the wet pavement. There stood a man

, along with it comes the howling wind. The wind swiftly stroked my skin and I felt the cold breeze. The weather is quite overwhelming, still, I managed.

Once again, I recalled the memories I shared with my people, persons whom I considered as my family. We may not share the same blood, yet this bond that I have with them is not endowed merely by friends.

These persons gave me light, while I am wandering in a dark and rather odd cave. They ignited my will to live in this forsaken world.

I dozed off for a bit, It was rather odd of me to reckon the past. Well, I cannot endure it, even the memories of someone we cherish most certainly have a place in our hearts. It is never forgotten.

I regained my composure and roamed along the sidewalk. It is completely an utter silence, France has never been serene. It is invariably filled with inaudible voices of people wandering around the streets or vehicles with their robust engines. However, It is better this way. A night of serenity.

My pace gradually comes to a halt, I shifted my gaze from the concrete floor to the panorama around me. Oh dear, I stumbled myself herein the Palace of Versailles. I scanned the scenery, the area is filled with oddly verdant lawns and monuments. The palace symbolizes monarchy and absolute power.

Besides that, the exterior is similar to the essence we feel in the wilderness because of the hedges and its garden-like structure. It is noticeable that this place is a haven where we find peace amid solitude, well for me, perhaps.

I wandered around seemingly relishing the proximity. It was filled with silence, I only heard the breeze and the endless pour of rain hitting rock-bottom. If only the storm could understand me, I could have told it to cease its downpour. There is nothing it could achieve If it keeps on whining. Yet, who am I to judge? The hypocrisy.

Rain rain go away,
come again another day.
Dumb-wit River wants to play,
Rain rain go away.

I chuckled because of the thought. How come I can sing a nursery song aloud without feeling humiliation? Well, that is up to my goofy side to respond. No one is around, so I bail that out.

An hour of walking in silence had me pricked. My legs are barely holding. I might as well collapse, then become the damsel in distress. My prince, save me! The thought of that makes me shiver in shame. In this world of ours, no one can save you but yourself. No prince, nor a man of shining armor. It is up to us If we prefer to be inferior to the other or defend ourselves from possible threats.

My attention shifted to the midnight sky. I observed the ever-glow darkness that reigns from above. The moon and stars were the ones who gave light when everything is pitch-black. I feel envious when I gaze above those celestial rocks, how the moon often shines the brightest, while those countless of stars linger around. It seems that the stars gave their sincere vows and admiration to the moon.

I have never thought of myself being surrounded by stars, nor have I be comparable to the moon. I was hoping to be someone whom is admired, accepted, and love by many. Although, I was never that person. Never loved and accepted, especially the blood of my own. Not a single person had tried to understand me, nor acknowledge who I really am.

This life of mine is wisecracking. A child birthed to be curbed and told apart from society.

Being different is a mistake. No let me rephrase that.

being me is a mistake.