On the other side of the city, there are the chances of catching the sun setting down, with clouds initiating a standard beauty to what a sky must look like.
On the other side of the city, after you take a one hour journey through the metro, and another couple of minutes of your life you think you wasted by taking the tram, you will get to see what you don't usually see through the mundane lenses of what a busy city must look like.
She vowed to take notes of all her surroundings, to live in the moment of what is passing by her, waving a farewell that was supposed to be influenced after a swift hello.
And yet all things were as standard as they can get, but she allowed her soul to go ahead and admire what the strange city possessed from tricks, elements and all other things that rely on matching skyscrapers with the endless horizon.
Her story didn't begin at that moment, and to be exact, it never had a starter point to commence the process of synchronizing the unfolding events. She just found herself facing life, she wasn't content as she was the saddest person she ever knew, and in the sense of time, she tried to struggle through endless rejections to what was being offered regardless of her consent, which had never been given to anyone, or to anything.
She was vulnerable and made sure to rely on such excuse to pass on time until the next wave comes and hits her. She knew how to never let go of her words, to jot them down or talk about them to her closest people.
She was a woman of theater. Not just any theater, not even the one that life built a stage for, but the one she constructed and reshaped with every single choice she made throughout her journey.
The most observant emotion she would allow to flicker without any disguise, was a condescending smile at herself for doing something right every now and then.
She was a terrible person, but every time she confessed this to someone, they brushed her off, thinking what a naive she was for saying such a thing that was supposed to be buried deep down, as all human beings did and still do.
But who was she?
She was trying to figure it out as the usual aspects of life lead a person to do and think about whenever a moment of truth was approaching, a stop sign signaling to rest and demand a logical explanation to what kind of a destination was the person heading toward at that moment.
Amy was a no special person, she was a person with an illusion that she either going nowhere or is going into the woods, refusing to admit that she was just walking through a linear path that will end eventually and take all of her and her memories and sufferings into oblivion.
Just another person. Just another girl avoiding the inevitable.
YOU ARE READING
The autumn I lost my innocence.
General FictionWhen you are passionate about something so bad, and I say so bad because there is a thin line between admiration and obsession, but I was too obsessed to notice what was slipping away from me, away and into the void of false expectations and twin fl...
