The mole-bombarded girl with weary yet bright eyes in the mirror is looking at me. She is confused most of the time- troubled about how she is leading her life in contrast to how she’s supposed to. Concocting life philosophies and singing seem to be her enduring hobbies. She never stops thinking. But her feelings almost always displace her thoughts. Her life is much like a blooming flower bombarded with thorns. Yet, she stubbornly persists to grip it tightly. She doesn’t want to lose her way, but almost always does. She almost always slips and falls- both literally and figuratively, and whenever she does, she starts laughing and insists to stand up though her knees are aching. Giving up is not in her to-do list. Childish, they say, stubborn they call her- those define her really. When you’re around her, look forward to be shouted at or cursed upon, if not totally beaten up for she has adapted some sadistic qualities from her collection of psycho-thriller novels. Note that when she caus...
The Magic of Mommyhood...