19 - . . . Who You Are

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Once upon a time, there was a girl who used to smile a lot.

Coming from a wealthy and influential background, she came across as a highly privileged and pampered girl. All the best in life were had been catered to her in a whim.

She was admired, yet feared at the same time. Her talents could be overwhelming, regarding the networks of influence of her family.

And not really long enough when she realised that . . . She was really not happy.

It was uglya tragedy.

She existed woefully in the achromatic world, grew up in a self-inflicting talent she could not ever escape, and still living in present just to secure herself a future.

Imprisoned by her mother's relentless regimen, she had rooted a deep fear of failure.

She was tired from being restless, moving like her body and mind was not hers. Manipulated like a puppet, it felt as though she was cut off by the limbs.

All her life, she was drowning with tears of expectations and for not being enough. She strived further and further . . . Until her heart shattered and mind in utter chaos.

She was just hoping someone could find her suffering. There was no way out. She was weak enough to overcome all of it.

She wanted out.

Yes, I want everything to be fine once more.

I woke up from a dream—a bad dream. It was silent. I can hear nothing, except the deafening rings vibrating inside my brain.

In this silence, I let myself swallowed by the dark vapour. Pitch-black, scary, and immensely overwhelming. I want this vapour to be gone in my soul. I can't endure the solitude.

The past never withers. I can still remember the things I left behind. I'm losing myself with the memories embedded within me. I can no longer navigate my own.

My eyes are open in suspicions, but are not moving; watching the nothingness. Wondering and thinking about what will life give me for today.

The light has already devoured my room. The sun has set free, something that I'm never really thankful for.

I'm planning not to get off of my bed. I'll stay here—I guess—until time consumes me.

I inhale air and exhales. I decide to close my eyes again and grab a pillow to cover my face.

"Uh . . . So unmotivated." I grumble in a long voice.

I'm not gonna lie that this feels so sad. "I wish something good will happen," I say helplessly.

And as if on cue, not even a minute passes, someone rings the doorbell of this house!

Quickly, I jolted up from my bed. My brows are creased, asking myself who would visit me at this hour?

Is it Mom? No. She has her own keys, though.

I stand up while picking up my eyeglasses, then go downstairs, and make way to the main door.

The doorbell rings again. Maybe, it's a postman?

Well, I reach for the doorknob, and without any concerns about my morning looks, I slightly open the door.

I peer through the gap to check who's outside. "Y-Yes . . ?" I sleepily ask with my face half-shown.

"Yo,"

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