Her Story

This time she didn’t wish for a happy ending for she stopped believing in one. She stopped hoping for a miracle. She was tired. Exhausted. And above all, defeated. The light that filtered through her broken being passed right through; sucked into the black hole she had created for herself. Not only did the solitude comfort her, she craved it. Her eyes didn’t betray the heaviness of her soul. She lied well. No one cared to look under her cloak of indifference. She wore an armor over her heart and reveled in its solidity. She saw nightmares and wrote about dreams. Dreams that she knew would never come true. She had long lost the battle with destiny. She wasn’t fighting anymore. Just struggling. Struggling with identity. Struggling with existence. Hope was a word she had long forgotten the meaning of. The sun burned her, the moon taunted her and the birds spoke of freedom of which she knew not. She was friends with the sea though, for its endless grey matched hers. She was living a harsh reality, and this time she didn’t wish for a happy ending. She just wished for an end.

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