Pink Box

Ardia's Personality

Ardia was never one for making friends. She preferred to keep to herself, navigating the world solo.
Opening up to others about her struggles was not her cup of tea.
Every day, Ardia would wake up to the same routine. She would slip on her faded jeans and a plain white t-shirt, her uniform of choice. There was comfort in the simplicity of her attire, a reassurance that the world outside couldn't touch her.
At school, Ardia would quietly slide into her seat at the back of the classroom. She liked being alone, away from the prying eyes and the whispers that seemed to follow her wherever she went.
There was an unspoken heaviness that Ardia carried, a burden she could never quite put into words.
Some days, it felt like a weight dragging her down. But she soldiered on, painting a smile on her face and pretending that everything was okay.
During lunch breaks, as her classmates chattered and laughed, Ardia would retreat to her own little corner. She'd open her pink lunch box and take out the same sandwich she had made herself that morning. Turkey, cheese, and mayonnaise on whole wheat bread—simple, just like her.
She would eat in silence, her eyes fixed on an imaginary spot on the wall. The conversations around her faded into background noise, never quite reaching her ears. It was as if she shielded herself from the world, creating her own little safe haven.
After school, Ardia journeyed through the streets, her footsteps echoing against the concrete. She loved the quiet solitude of walking alone, with only her thoughts for company. There was a certain freedom in being untethered, unburdened by the expectations of those around her.
Whenever the urge to speak to someone overwhelmed her, Ardia would grab one of her pink sheets of of paper and a pen—She poured her heart out, sharing her deepest thoughts and emotions. But there was a twist - she responded to herself. She was writing to someone imaginary.
In her beautiful pink room, Ardia had a special place for these papers.
A pink box that held countless papers filled with her words. To anyone else, it might seem odd, but for Ardia, it created the illusion of speaking to someone who cared.
Her pink box, filled with these imaginary conversations, became her sanctuary. It was a place where she could be her true self without any judgment. The papers held her dreams, fears, and hopes, locked away behind the vibrant pink walls of her room. Ardia couldn't explain why she found solace in this peculiar habit, but it was her way of coping. She felt a sense of relief every time she wrote to her nonexistent confidant.
It was as if the weight on her shoulders lessened with each word she penned.
The pink box grew with time, the pile of letters stacking higher and higher. It was a sign of the battles Ardia fought silently, a testament to her resilience. To her, every letter represented a step towards understanding herself better, uncovering the layers of her complex emotions.
As much as Ardia longed for a real connection, she found comfort in the solitude her pink box provided.
It became a shield against the world's expectations, a safe space where she could be vulnerable without risking rejection. Little did she know that one day, the words she penned in the pink box would find their way out into the world, weaving a story that would touch the lives of others. But for now, the letters remained her secret, her source of solace and self-discovery.
In the realm of her pink box, Ardia discovered the power of words to heal, to connect, and to forge a path towards self-acceptance. And as she continued to write, she held onto the hope that one day, she would find the strength to share her words with someone real.