You'll see her in streets, she's a juggler. She juggles three ***** each day of her life. These ***** are called Love, Work, and Family. Love is made of glass, Work is made of plastic, Family is made of rubber. Before we continue with the story, you need to remember these rules: 1. Not everyone you meet is a juggler, but everyone carries with them a weight and they come in various forms 2. These ***** need to be juggled 18 hours a day throughout her life 3. Love is never irreplaceable, Work is made of plastic and is at times temporary, you can replace it any time you want; and Family, it is the sturdiest ball. Though these ***** should be equal in sizes, there are times when Love seems to be the heaviest. That being said, the juggler always pays more attention to that ****** little red ball thinking that if she can manage to juggle that everyday, she'll get through; and she does. Always.
One day, the juggler bumped into a stranger. This stranger wears a blue suit. He's charming, he looks like a character from a book the juggler has read before - the one with that faraway star and pixie dusts. His eyes shine, but they look empty. He carries with him a pen, but it doesn't seem like he knows it's there yet. Unlike the girl, this stranger doesn't have any ***** to juggle but he carries with him three books atop his head. These books are thick, looks old, seem like they've never been opened for so long. The juggler apologizes but the stranger was too in a hurry, he just gave her a quick glance and continued walking.
Curious, the juggler's eyes followed the stranger's path while still walking forward; and to her fear she missed to catch that fragile glass ball. She tried picking it up while still juggling the other two, she gasps the moment she sees that the glass ball cracked. This is the fourth time it happened. At that moment she already knew that if it happens again, she's *******.
She tries to focus, but every time she juggles the crack gets deeper and pieces of the ball portrude her skin. To forget the pain, the juggler focused on the two other *****, she chose the lighter one, Work. She likes this ball, and she's starting to think this may just be her favorite. Forgetting the glass ball, she began thinking of new juggling tricks, and one of the trick involves throwing two ***** mid-air at the same time. As the juggler throws the *****, she remembers she has forgotten something.. but it was too late. The broken glass ball pierced through the plastic ball. She created an even bigger problem for herself. Her favorite ball continously deflates as she juggles. She sighs and thinks to herself, "I always break the ones I love."
She tried stepping back, took a break from juggling. Unconsciously trying to punish herself, she went to a coffee shop even if caffeine is bad for her. The barista shouts her name and she stands to get her order. Reaching out to the cup of coffee she felt another hand - again, it was the stranger. But this time the stranger is not a stranger anymore. He's already someone familiar. Someone she thinks would last. She thinks.
They got close. The juggler came to a point where the broken ***** don't bother her anymore. She was distracted, and at that time it felt like a good kind of distraction. She pointed the pen to the guy and told him, "Do you write? Did you write those books?" she then looks atop his head. The guy shook his head and replied, "These books have been there as long as I can remember." The juggler got his pen, a table napkin and writes,"Share the books with me, we'll write your story." It took a while, the guy got his pen back, and somehow, no matter how afraid he was, he agreed.
He should not have listened. The juggler doesn't know what she was doing. Why would someone listen to a girl who can't even fix her own self?
But there's something between her and that guy that made everything seem okay.
They met outside a coffee shop. The guy bought the juggler a Cappuccino frappe, as she took a sip she realized that everything she felt with this stranger is like sipping thru a cup of frappe - refreshing, escaping, and bad for her. They got their pens out, bought a new book and wrote their hearts out.
Until one day, the juggler realized she was too caught up with this guy she totally forgot about juggling. She panicked,looked at her things to see if she still has them..then she found all of them - broken. What she didn't realize was that all of the ***** need work to function well.
This is where she got up, talked to the one who gave her the ***** and plead for one more chance. She was told,"Everything can be fixed, except for those that are thrown away."
The next day, the juggler got all the broken pieces back and decided to create her own ball. She started with the glass ball, blood in her hands, she tried to glue whatever's left. Next was the plastic ball, she covered the glass ball with the plastic material to protect it. Lastly, the sturdiest material was the one covering the whole ball. At the end of the day, she only had one ball left which she called Life. Funny, this large ball is sturdier than all three ***** combined. This ball was made whole by wreckage.
Later that night, she met up with the guy to apologize. She knew he was perfectly fine before she showed up. She leans, kissed the guy on his cheek and bids good bye. As she steps back she noticed... the guy is now holding the pen, but instead of having three books atop his head, he now has four. One unfinished, three unopened..
I wonder what happened to the guy. I hope he figures things out. ***** to know I haven't completely known him..
(This is by far, the longest piece I've ever written. This was made type-and-publish, haven't proofread)