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 causes you pain, she doesn’t mean it; or it may be for your own real good. When going out with her, expect to find a book in her bag rather than a pile of make-up or a hanky.
She is not one who extends her hand on first meetings. Her smiles are rather occasional as well, if she’s not with people whom she adores.
If she treats you in an odd combination of rudeness and sweetness, then she considers you as her friend. She wants to do lots of things all at the same time and impatience often embraces her since she is almost certain that she’ll die at the age of thirty. Sadly, she is almost always late- for almost everything.
She loves kids and she dreams to help a lot of them the day after she has successfully helped herself. She loves to laugh and she is currently, and will probably always be, in the quest of finding the grandest level of happiness. She hopes that God will stay with her no matter what.
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