Good morning, princess.
It's another beautiful day, isn't it? Remember always start with a smile. I heard it's the start season of the Lilac now or maybe not but anyways, how is the book? Do you like it? I like it too. It such a deep book that makes me want to think about life even deeper. Don't overwork, okay? Take care of yourself. If you have medications then drink them by your exact schedule. Eat a healthy diet, okay? Anyways, have a good day, love. - w.w
10:30 a.m.
Another day to see her. Another to cross out of my calendar. Another day of my same old routine. I was walking to the flower shop with the same stuff but with a different book. This time it's Love and Misadventures by Lang Leav. I was 20 steps away from the shop and I see her by the window, which gave me an idea on how to give these small presents of mine. As soon as I was 10 steps away from the shop, I lowly walked my way to the window and checked if she was there good thing she wasn't so I put the presents on the window, knocked, and ran away going to the park.
I went to the same old bench that I always sit on every day. I took out my black journal, and a sign pen that was given my mother before she died because of heart cancer. Heart cancer is generational disease in my mother side while my dad. Well, he died an honorable death. He died while saving from the fire when I was 10 years old. I look up and start writing on my journal.
There she was ready to fly but Society stopped her. They said it was too impossible. They said she'll never make it. They said her dream was too high to reach.
She tried not to believe them but she was reminded every day. Every day, ever hour, minute by minute, every part of her dream was taken.
Darkness
Pain
Sadness
They ate her up. She didn't know what to do. She tried not to believe but they continued to eat her. She was now... Broken Hearted
The beautiful wings she had was the faith, and hope she had in her in dreams but sadly it was no more beautiful. It was now called... Broken Wings
The big dreams she had become smaller and smaller. Her dreams are not called dreams anymore. It was now called... Broken Dreams.
She can fly no more. She can dream no more. She can smile, laugh, and play no more. She was now... Broken.
I closed my journal and kept it in my jack. I look up to the sky and took a deep breath. I wonder how mom and dad is doing up there. Are they happy up there without me? Is the girl okay? Do I love her?
