BELLADONNA

Chp16: bygone melancholy

𝖧𝖾𝗒 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾, 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝖠𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍, 𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗉𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗎𝗉𝗅𝗈𝖺𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗏𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾, 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍!

OVERALL TARGET VOTE : 85

Reflecting on those bygone melancholic and burdensome days, I find myself filled with pity for the person I was. Unaware of when tears began to flow or when my pillow gained weight from the weight of my sorrows. Despite my efforts to feign happiness, I am constantly battling inner turmoil, smiling through the pain while silently suffering. Each confrontation with family or encounter with bullies at school feels like a deep stab to my soul, leaving me feeling utterly powerless and unable to advocate for myself. I feel like a chaotic mess, concealing my struggles behind a facade of smiles, yet the storm within me looms ever closer, its impending eruption uncertain and daunting.

Feeling powerless about the person I've become is something I experience at times. I imagine my younger self would look at me now and feel ashamed. She wouldn't have wanted me to turn out like this.

I feel like I'm stranded on a deserted island, standing right in the heart of it all. Uncertain of which direction to take-should I forge ahead, veer left, turn right, retreat, or simply remain where I am?

Having two older sisters should be a blessing, but sometimes I wonder if it truly is. Where are those sisters who listen, encourage, and fight for you? Mine always seem ready to argue, blame, and criticize me. And just when I thought I was on a journey toward healing, why did he have to reenter my life? The person who caused me so much heartbreak. Although, I can't entirely blame him; he didn't know about my feelings. I remember returning home and crying like a baby, refusing to eat, and isolating myself in my room. It hurt so much to see him embracing my only friend, especially knowing she was aware of my feelings for him. Why does life always seem so unfair to me? Why do I constantly attract people who are red flags? Although, I can't label him as such; after all, he's been helpful all this time.

He never judged me all this time. I know he must have heard about the arguments I've had with my parents since childhood. He could have asked me about it, but he never did. Instead, when we met for the first time for him but the second time for me, he comforted me.

In the midst of these encounters, I'm grappling with a whirlwind of emotions. Uncertainty clouds my mind as I try to decipher his playful demeanor, wondering if it's merely innocent flirtation or harbors deeper sentiments. Despite my efforts to convince myself otherwise, there's a persistent tug at my heartstrings whenever he's near.

"Antheia, regain your composure!"

I scold myself, desperately trying to suppress the fluttering in my chest. Reminding myself sternly that this can't be love; it's just a lingering echo of past unreciprocated affection. I reassure myself that I've moved on, that we're simply friends-nothing more. But then, his mother's words echo in my mind, a glimmer of hope amidst the confusion, stirring up a storm of conflicting emotions as I contemplate what could be.

The sting of reality jolted me back to the present as my palm connected with my cheeks.

"No, Antheia, snap out of it!"

I scolded myself, the urgency in my voice reflecting the turmoil within.

"Stop indulging in these futile fantasies."

I felt a surge of frustration, knowing that I didn't even have clarity on his relationship status-was he still entangled with my less-than-friendly acquaintance? Doubt gnawed at me, suggesting that perhaps they were still together, and his mother's words were a mere misunderstanding. Was his friendly demeanor simply that-friendly-or had his mother misinterpreted his gestures? And then there was the undeniable truth: he was the epitome of the school's charming Casanova, his reputation preceding him. The weight of reality crashed down on me, a bittersweet reminder of the futility of my hopes and the harshness of the truth.

Feeling overwhelmed by emotions I couldn't quite name, I made a conscious decision to shelve the topic for now. The weight of it all left me feeling numb, a creeping sense of panic stirring within me for reasons I couldn't quite grasp.

"Enough,"

I muttered to myself, wiping away the stray tears that had escaped. I sought solace in the familiar routine of distraction, heading to the bathroom to splash my face with cold water, a feeble attempt to clear my mind. Returning to my sanctuary, I fired up Netflix, determined to lose myself in the comforting embrace of a rom-com. With my phone set to do not disturb, I surrendered myself to the screen, letting the movie of the day envelop me in its whimsical storyline, if only for a fleeting moment of respite from the turmoil within.

I chuckled until my stomach ached, the laughter proving to be a welcome balm for my troubled soul. Despite the lingering heaviness in my heart, those two hours spent immersed in the world of the rom-com were undeniably worth it.

As I glanced out the window, I was greeted by the sight of the sun bidding farewell, painting the sky with vibrant hues as it prepared to rest. It was a breathtaking scene, one that beckoned me to the rooftop to soak in every last bit of its beauty. Yet, amidst the splendor, a thought crossed my mind. The sun, after all its burning, knew how to shine the brightest, casting its radiance far and wide. In that moment, I couldn't help but draw parallels between myself and the sun. Perhaps, just like the sun, my soul's burning intensity would one day lead me to shine the brightest, adorned with vibrant colors that captivate all who behold me. Anticipation fills my heart as I eagerly await that day, when my inner fire will illuminate the world with its brilliance, casting away shadows and illuminating the path ahead.

With my phone in hand, I embarked on a quest to capture the fleeting beauty before me, each snap a testament to the awe-inspiring spectacle unfolding in the sky.

As I descended the stairs, the aroma of spices wafted through the air, welcoming me to the heart of the home: the kitchen. Mom was already busy at work, orchestrating tonight's dinner like a seasoned conductor. I eagerly joined her, eager to immerse myself in the comforting routine of cooking. The kitchen was alive with activity, the soft glow of the overhead light casting a warm ambiance over the room. The rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board filled the air, a soothing melody that never failed to calm my restless mind. Tonight's culinary adventure involved preparing chow mein, a dish rich with vibrant colors and bold flavors. As I meticulously sliced through crisp vegetables-carrots, peppers, onions-the kitchen was filled with a symphony of sounds: the gentle sizzle of the stir-fry pan, the rhythmic clinking of utensils against bowls, the soft hum of conversation between Mom and me. With each precise cut, I found myself lost in the artistry of cooking, finding solace in the familiarity of the task at hand. Sensing my enthusiasm, Mom insisted I take the lead on vegetable prep, allowing her a well-deserved break. With a smile, I accepted the challenge, relishing the opportunity to lose myself in the very thing I loved most.