The trees are no longer tall, the sky is no longer deep, the ground is no longer flat. Through her eyes, the world does not resemble what everyone else perceives. Perspectives are trumped and images are deformed, offering her pure chaos. From this moment, she knows nothing will ever be the same.
At this thought she shivers and retracts her body, takes a step back from the window. She enters the shadows made by the curtains, retires from the light spread by the oh-so inviting sun. Her hand draws the fabric across the frame to leave her cold and at peace.
She finds calmness in the dark, buried in her sombre emotions. Her heart and soul are surrounded by the teardrops trickling down her face, rebounding on her collar bone, landing on her bare feet. This moment resembles other moments of her life, when nothing seems right, yet time still goes by. As she feels the water pouring down from her eyes, she lets go of her incessant monologue, people’s voice telling her to go out and see the beauty in the smallest things.
The lies she has been telling herself stem from these dogmas. The ones read in books and spit out by the ignorant. Her truth bursts from her struggles and dreams, from her reality made of uneven roads, ugly patterns and violent storms. Her rules are different than the ones lived by others. She does not see contentment, the one promised by fairy tales. Instead, she sees agony until it will no longer be required of her to live.