A 26 year old stands next to her last light of hope. The voice recorder played a sorrowful tune. Bringing back memories of forgotten childhood. Encouraging words from her 10 year old self gave life the sweet taste of the past tense . It was required by law to give wise words at that age so the future you could go to the little flash drive , and listen in for when ever you hit rock bottom.
But what would a 10 year old say to change 16 years worth of lost time. 16 years stuck in a constant state between pleasing yourself and everyone else. A picture says a 1000 words, but the image of societies broken heart spoke continuously : criticizing the insecurities that was not its own. Disapproving flaws that were once perfect were now judged repeatedly . And the innocence of being happy slipped away along with the details of growth. So now, for the millionth time, her squeaky voice echoed back to her.
Echoed back in the four walls of the hotel bathroom. The laptop played the little angels' stuttering statements nonstop. It played it more than enough for her to recite it back to herself . she stood there across the mirror , her mascara running down her swollen cheeks .
The tears of long held in emotions blurred her vision. Blocking the form of her natural beauty that reflected back to her.
"Always remember... um .... Your beautiful. And that .. um- You can do it."
Too young to know what such words like that being blurted out meant to her right now. Any type of encouragement , anything to stop the numbness. To stop feeling down . She didn't want to zone out in her imagination just to see made up characteristics of what she couldn't be.
The reflection of her red cheeks, her curves , the way her stomach rolls landed on top of one another, her pimples on her structure lined jawline , her curls scattered apart, over and above her hairline ; screamed anything but perfect. Perfect didn't have a role right now , her focus was on the coffee that was about to burst in every shaking vein.
Her hands shook as she tried to force a smile.
Her own words pushed her more than she ever did.
This is how school made her. Homework after homework. Repainting the words form previous essays onto the next.
And now that she failed her college exam , it was taking every last cell inside of her not to dropout.
YOU ARE READING
Mind Full Of Tricks
Short StoryA portrait seen only for its colors. For how the lines danced across one another . Making a connection when noticed . if you stared at it long enough , it wouldn't look the same anymore. Oh yes , get amazed by the final results of what you never th...
