Trapped Destinies

The Encounter and Interview

Fuck society's standards, the relentless pressure to conform, the never-ending rat race, and the ceaseless exhaustion. I find myself at a juncture in life where at every turn I face, I find myself stumbling. I lack financial stability, a vibrant social life, and any worthwhile friendships. I'm long past surrender. I've grown weary, and I've grown weary of feeling weary.

In this labyrinth of expectations, I find myself yearning. I too desire meaningful friendships, laughter that fills the air, smiles that come from the heart, and the warmth of shared jokes. I too want to chase knowledge, have an education, and have a great job. I too pine to set foot on foreign soils, to taste exotic cuisines, and to let the world's wonders fill me with awe. I too long to fall in love and build my own cosy family.

I want to be the ray of sunshine that brightens others' days, to feel beautiful in my own skin, and to be sought after for who I truly am. Yet, the reality seems to be far from these aspirations, and the truth weighs heavily on my heart. Hopelessness has conquered my soul. It seems that I'm losing every battle, and now, cornered, I'm ready to acknowledge defeat in this ongoing war.

With each passing moment, as the clock ticks away, my mind becomes a battleground for unrelenting thoughts, each one probing where I may have faltered. There's an undeniable conviction within me that I must have made critical missteps to find myself in this bottomless state of isolation and disapproval. It would be absurd and implausible to think that the collective perceptions and feelings towards me are all mistaken.

Could it be that I am the living embodiment of what society deems unattractive? Or is it my words that cascade carelessly, creating a constant stream of chatter that overwhelms those around me? Perhaps it's my propensity to succumb to my anger and my emotions too readily. Or is it that my own perception of my physical appearance has confined me to this uncomfortable space?

But perhaps I'm not the one to blame. After all, is it just or fair that I should bear the weight of my parents' pleasure— pleasure that brought me into this world twenty-two years ago, lasting mere few minutes but leaving an indelible mark on my life? Not everyone deserves to be parents.

Amidst my swirling thoughts and self-doubt, I decide to take a walk in the nearby park, seeking a much needed moment of solace. The park, with its sprawling greenery and serene atmosphere, has become my treasured refuge—a space where I can momentarily liberate myself from the burdens of my concerns and, for a while, transcend this diminutive world.

As I stroll along a winding path, still lost in my thoughts, I suddenly experience a small yet unexpectedly powerful collision at my knees. Looking down, I find a young boy, no older than five, standing before me with a sheepish grin. Once he realises that his ice cream, once perched atop his waffle cone, has now smeared all over my carefully chosen interview attire, he immediately starts to sob and carelessly lets himself fall to the floor. The kid's parents are nowhere to be seen. Hence, I have no choice but to reiterate that not everyone deserves to be parents.

My initial shock and frustration subsides, I crouch down to the charming young boy's eye level, I look into those innocent eyes and speak gently, "It's okay, buddy. We could buy you another ice cream." The young boy, still teary-eyed, cautiously studies my face.

"My dad tells me not to talk to strangers or to accept anything they offer to me. I don't know you. You, you're a stranger." The little kid asserts, his brows furrowing, his voice stern, as he wipes his tears away.

The young lad's words briefly pierce my thoughts, serving as a reminder of society's cautionary tales. But in an instant, my heart softens as I grasp the significance of safety. His parents have instilled these lessons in him, yet they have carelessly left him unattended. Now, I find myself in a quandary, uncertain about how to regard the kid's parents.