She's tried on everything, every little thing inside her closet. The one who has got a red dress on tonight. The one whose mother doesn't approve of such attire.
I do not know her name. All I know about her is that she's a silent rebel. Calm and composed on the outside, a fierce storm on the inside, her eyes being the only window to her true self. She may sound like a cool person to be, but trust me, her world is not the same as ours.
Excluded, she wonders what it takes to fit in. What it feels like to have actual friends, to be understood. She wanders about, searching for a soul who might relate, but fails to find one.
Here she is, at a party, amongst a swarm of people. Yet, all she feels is loneliness. All she sees is a bunch of strangers. Alienated, she stands by the bar, subtly sipping on her drink, while her mind prances about in a world of its own.
In a world of her own creation. In a world where she has friends. Where she has people who relate. People who understand. Where she can reveal her true self without fearing judgement or criticism. A world where she is free of any bonds or restrictions forced on her by this cruel society of ours. Where her creativity knows no bounds. Where she can truly live.
Sadly, this place is a creation of her mind. A mere image of what could be, but isn't. For in this ruthless, merciless reality of ours, there is no place for dreamers. Narcissistic people whose heads are full of stereotypic and egotistic thoughts are the ones who rule over this harsh world.
Yet, believing it's not her place to be complaining, she accepts this terrible fact, but her mind doesn't.
After all, she's a silent rebel. Calm and composed on the outside, a fierce storm on the inside.
YOU ARE READING
The Sappy Book Of Poems, Rants And Short Stories
De TodoA place where I put up the stuff I write in my free time. It's not really that great, and nobody is going to read this anyway, so it's basically a diary for myself.
