Every child is born clumsy, for that is one of the only usuals for an infant. However, clumsiness is not innate. Most people shred this trait with growth.
But, a rare percentage of people owing to developmental disorders, carry this trait right into their adolescence, followed by their prime youth, culminating into its pinnacular form in adulthood. Clumsiness is of three types : physical, mental and the third category overlapping the first two. Well, I belong to the first one, one of the very reasons why my condition is undermined and I'm a laughing stock among my peers.
I'm Melisa McCoy, one of the latest residents to shift into Appenzell, Switzerland. Switzerland - the land of scenic beauty, the terrestrial Paradise, the mere sight of which is enough to tranquilize a restless mind, just like mine. But alas! No amount of scenic beauty could ever tranquilize my troubled mind, no amount of love could ever heal the pain that I've carried in my heart since the start of my social and academic life.
There is something else, or rather someone, the mere glimpse of whom could overpower any natural or man-made tranquilizer of the world.
He is a virile young man - the one I've been stalking for several weeks ever since our move into the countryside neighborhood. Being the clumsy woman that I am, I've never had the nerve to approach and talk to him. So all I could do was admire him from afar.
Today, as I stand in my balcony, overlooking the meadows, I watch his colorful personality camouflaging with the flora and fauna. However, today there wasn't the woman who usually tagged along, and that was enough to ease the burden in my heart. Secretly, I focused my camera lens and zoomed in on him, and clicked as many pictures of him as I could.
You see, despite my clumsiness, I'm a passionate photographer and painter, who is well-versed in the sinews of these forms of art. There was another passion of mine though - one that I have successfully hidden from the external world.
The blaring of my cell phone broke in on my trance.
"Hello?"
"Mel, be ready at 7 pm. I'll be coming to pick you up. Our family has been invited to a charity ball tonight, and you'll tag along. I don't want to hear a no."
And then she hung up. That's my bosom friend Karen, my backbone, ever since my arrival to the countryside, and the only person to know about my obsession with the stranger and my absurd hobby.
I opened my diary and caressed the paper cuttings adorning each page. I scrutinized our pictures together, looking for the most trivial flaws that would give away its falsehood.
Yes, photoshopping is my hobby. I've always had a penchant for creative imagery, so why not steer it towards something constructive that could appease my heart?
"Perfection!" I exclaimed, feeling satisfied with my latest artwork.
I scurried over to my closet (tripping twice in the process) and shuffled through the dresses. I was really reluctant to attend any social events owing to my clumsiness. Even though Karen's optimistic and non-judgemental attitude did give me enough confidence, yet I was afraid of embarrassing her, and eventually losing her.
I've never really had true friends, and my former hometown and alma mater had a huge contribution in ingraining self-hatred and insecurity into my system. Although my new home and new friend did enough to ameliorate all the negativity in my life, it couldn't heal the scars from the past. But it could, at the most, help me adapt to my pain from the past.
I've had a hard time convincing myself and my parents about going to the party. Yet, here I was, at the party, dressed in the best dress Karen could afford.
I am already short and chubby, and to top it all, I never wear heels due to my clumsiness. Karen, on the other hand, is five inches taller than me, and wears stilettos, the earmark of her fashion, that she carries off without any hassle.
"Don't get lost in the crowd. I'll have a hard time finding you," she said, eyeing the throng at the bar, critically.
I nodded, gulping in anxiety, while Karen's height added to my inferiority complex. Within a second, she disappeared, leaving me alone with her eccentric mother.
The silence was weighing me down, so I attempted to strike a casual conversation with her.
