Standstill

Little girl doesn't know when she grew up. She only remembers playing on the ground with uncomplicated friendships and swinging in the wind that doesn't sting. She doesn't remember when sadness and anger lost their simplicity. She doesn't remember when her freedom made her more trapped.

It gets complicated right?

That's life, isn't it?

But why does this roller coaster keeps going on, without any thrill? She prays for life to feel like the road trips through plain fields; steady and smooth. But it's like praying at hell's gates.

God only grants cursed wishes. And not the sort that's please grant me a broken bone. But the sort that makes you think this is what I want but it only bites you in the back. Because when I ask for a broken bone, I know I'm asking for pain and suffering, but what really kills is when you think something is good and it turns into pain and suffering. I wanted wings but who knew now I won't be able to walk again.

Little girl knows wishing to fly comes with fighting the winds and not flying close to the sun. Maybe she wasn't ready though. Maybe she won't ever be ready. But she wasn't even asking for much. She just wants to be ready for the uncertainty. The adrenaline rush to feel like she's on top of the world. But the adrenaline is just there, without any rush.

Roads don't always lead to known destinations but it's the journey that counts. But even the journey seems too adventurous to enjoy the sceneries. There are no plain fields anymore, just race course obstacles. And it's fun when you dodge and pass through, but when you crash the impact is too much.

Little girl doesn't know when she grew up. And it seems she can't stop.

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THY ELOQUENCE

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