Fiction

Don't mock me or scorn me. Don't place me on pedestal and make me face all my imperfections. I know I'm not perfect. Life already has it's hurtful way of making me realize that. I don't need you to remind me how pathetic I am. I'm already kneeling on the ground. Why make me crawl? Would that make you feel better? Or would you think it would make me feel better knowing that you have seen through me?

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A person once said that reality is just a point of view of the majority. I don't want to be transparent and visible to the real world. Because in reality, the more transparent I am, the more points of view will be taken, the more these judgments deviate from what I truly am. I want to be known only to myself as much as possible. I want to be part of fiction, not reality. I want to be a character who can easily be created, changed and destroyed... a character who does not care if her actions will trigger negative reactions from others. I want to be an insignificant character like a small rock on a dirt road which nobody notices, nobody cares about, nobody knew existed... until maybe one day, somebody will stumble upon it and change that somebody's life.

But I still have a smile on my face. Because I know that despite the hurtful words, I know you are that somebody whose life has changed because of me.

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Back to reality:
My Muse is at it again. Maybe I think of these weird thoughts due to lack of sleep (24 hours awake already and counting.) Or maybe it was the fact that I got to be surrounded by books again when I found myself alone, browsing them in the local bookshop. Or maybe it's another "over-sensitivity attack". But I should know better. Only one person can make me put these feelings into writing. Too bad that person may not be reading nor will ever read this entry.