Needles to Song

A woman in her late 20s has everything that she needs to live. However, she struggles to keep herself alive. Every day she battles within herself and the world around her.

Plastering a smile on her face isn't much of a big deal. - Who likes looking at a sour face? - Making people around her happy during the day (or in public spaces) with her wits, charms, silly jokes and innuendos; she is deemed to be socially acceptable and normal.

She has amazing "poker face" skills - people are much comfortable around her if she shows less feelings on her face. She is much acceptable if she shares less about herself. She is much acceptable if she only follows everyone elses' beat instead of her own.

She goes on because she doesn't want to cause pain in anyone's life. Her lie has been so elaborately acceptable than the truths she wish to speak and be spoken to. She doesn't want to die knowing that people will have a chance to blame her and accuse her cheaply or hurt anyone in her family for if she successfully manages to rip the life from within herself.

Deep in her heart and mind, she knows that she is beating her soul breathless every day. In the confinements of her personal space; she cries herself to sleep, she soothes herself by telling herself "I am fine, I am okay" -ignoring every drop of tear rolling down her cheeks. She curls herself into a ball in rolls of her blanket into an almost fetal position, shutting her eyes forcefully like it is the only way she can escape from the daymares that scare her soul cold.

"Life is torture; death serves justice for my soul. I await the day for when I gain enough courage to break free from the cage that is my very physical existence."