She has been questioning herself. Questioning her existence, and her position in life? Will she end her poems with (x.o.) or (lunarlullubies)? Why does this darkness thrive within her? How does it manage to feed off her soul so she’ll contract it’s disease and become a permanent part of her? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. All she knows is that somewhere in her mind, there exists an intelligence that no one has ever embraced. She doesn’t use all of it all the time because it would offend some people.
She knows how to love a man properly. She knows how to remember every single detail about him, how his eyes sparkle whenever he’s contented and how they look deep into her when they’re together. She knows. She’ll remember his birthday, their anniversary, his number, his coffee order and even his address because she loves him, and would do anything for him. She would be the one to buy flowers, the one to ask him out on dates. She would be the one.
She looks into the mirror everyday and asks why she can’t be of another race, why she can’t have auburn curls or green eyes, or blue eyes. She wonders why she can’t get rid of her love handles, or her baby fat. She’s the girl in school who embraces many. Who looks up to many. When will anyone look up to her? When will people start asking her where she got her clothes from? Or her inspiration?
She has never been on the logical side, but what she doesn’t have in logic, she makes up for in creativity. Writing poetry, singing, playing instruments and reading have always been her greatest enjoyments. She doesn’t like challenging problem sums or figuring out what the square root of pi is. She wants to look to the other side of life where the complication is low. What she doesn’t understand, is why the education system chooses to make her study mathematics which she clearly doesn’t ace it. She doesn’t understand why her math teacher wouldn’t help her but instead indirectly call her a hopeless case and a sad sob story of great words with high levels of stupidity and ignorance. She doesn’t know. She knows that studying mathematics could have some kind of good impact on her, but she just doesn’t get it. Every problem is twisted like a good mystery. She likes mysteries but can never seem to solve them on her own because she doesn’t have good deduction skills. Her dad told her, “Good deduction skills come from learning mathematics.” and she has been trying to learn. Trying to understand the intricacies of it. She has great ambitions, but the system and the way of society doesn’t let her fulfil those ambitions. They make her value money over happiness, which is something she doesn’t like, but has to believe in. She thinks it’s flawed, and argues about topics like it. She is the president of one of the most underrated clubs in school – the debate club. Some students don’t even know that their school has a debate club. She cries about how things don’t go well. She wants them to improve.
She knows. She knows that someday everything will all change because everyone will grow up one day.
My longest writing yet, because it's about someone I know the best. Myself.