Encouragement

The Thorny Rose

by David Lalrinsanga
10/18/15
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                She’d wake up each day with a new hope, a self imposed motivation to be precise, but lacking real inspiration that would ignite her dying will. The recurring thought that she’d be sharing the same breakfast with individuals to whom she owed the world, fills the leaky cup of purpose that she had held on to with a trembling hand, and it being the only thing propelling her forward. When a beautiful cleansed face perfectly framed by a mirror stares right back, she’d deny the view, ever unsure of her own reflection, a reflection seen through the eyes of a heavy heart that beats like a pulsating migraine. Forcing a somewhat happy face with lipstick and makeup, she’d cloth herself with no less then what’s in, for she fears to not look the part, like most pretty girls do. But if you’d care enough to speculate beyond her outward appearances, you’d notice the glitches in her graceful motion. No doubt she was troubled, as her smiles would only last a second each time they were triggered. There is nothing wrong with her eyes, no unusual medical condition that she desperately tries to convey, but a mere cover-up of her extreme mood swings that involuntarily caused her to tear up spontaneously. She’d spend her entire day seeking any form of distraction, not from the world which she forces herself upon, but from her own destructive self. She might succeed sometimes but the setting sun would eventually stir up unwanted emotions, escalating to sleepless nights and constantly inducing her to finally seek permanent closure.

                Why? It’s the question she’d never answer, as the amount of complex she holds made it ever so rhetorical. Practically the closer you get, the further she runs. And it’s getting literal by the minute, as if she was magnetized in reverse. She’d keep a dairy instead, an object being personified as a best friend. But dissatisfaction was clearly seen from the teary ink and the type of words written. Yet with all that’s going down in her rather unsettling life, the whole world seems so oblivious, as all they ever noticed was her alter ego “The Little Miss Sunshine” whom she flawlessly portrays at Church. Maybe it’s time she finds singularity in this place. Maybe the owner of this institution is the only person worthy to be deemed a positive distraction. Maybe this is where she needs to keep her diary. Maybe it is here that she’d find peace and a change in her sad status quo. Maybe then her smiles would last longer, her dreams more pleasant.

“Forever seems so near

When all you know is fear

You hate the sight of dawn

And wished that you were gone

But now is not the time

For your life has to rhyme

A switch from darkness to light

Let this Faith brighten your sight”