Hope

Like every story worth telling, this one begins with a girl. But, unlike most stories which are spewing from the unimaginative depths of the Hollywood minds, this story does not begin with a boy. Nor end with one. In this story, the greatest value is placed in this girl.

 

She is tall and soft and sweet. She is one in a million. She is just like a million other girls. Her most distinguished feature is that she is indistinguishable from every other girl.

 

Now this girl, this girl - her life is spent waiting, she is spent waiting. She analyzes everything. She reanalyzes and overanalyzes and begins all over. She can't stop. She is desperately lonely. She is never alone.

 

Each day she stares into the mirror waiting for something to change. Waiting for life to begin. She steps forward but is always still. It is life moving past her. Each day blurs. Fades. Bleeds away.

 

This girl doesn't believe in God. She believes in Karma. It's really just a nice way to say she believes in revenge. She longs for punishment and for release.

 

It wasn't always like this. No, not always. Once, she felt differently. Once, she was happy. Once, she was everything; saw in colour, heard in stereo, felt in infinity. But now. Now. She’s cold. She's painful. She's empty.

 

She can't face life straight. She is sadness, she is desperation, she is bleak. But she can escape: these are the last flowers she'll bring to the grave.

 

She's been clutching onto hope.

 

She's going to let go.

 

 

 

 

- Written by Willow Hamelton

Done