Being a receptive person, she was loved dearly. She listened to her “friends” who had dramatic problems, to the stories of her grandmother which had rheumatism, to her parents who had work issues, to her teachers and basically everyone. When she wasn’t listening to anyone, she played euchre with herself. It was difficult to play, but she developed a method to play alone. But it was because she played alone that things changed. Or more like people changed, for they didn’t love her anymore. Everyone made sarcastic remarks about her, and it hurt her. People spread rumors about her to the point where he seemed reprehensible. To escape the pain these remarks brought to her, she always acted bemused about anything, too deep in thought to pay attention to anything people were saying. Now, everyone bleated about her, but they were only criticizing her. Picking apart her appearance and focusing only on her flaws, completely ignoring her good features. So she locked herself in her room, rarely coming out. Sometimes, she would remember wisps of her past, the time when she was loved. She would only cry herself to sleep and repeat the same process the next day and the day after. This went on for a year.
One day, her door opened. She stepped out to a sunny day. She had completely changed, and for the worst. She walked in a sullen manner, her eyes dull, her skin grey, and her hair dead. A depressing mood hovered around her wherever she went. Finally, the people realized what they had done. They destroyed her from the inside out with loneliness.
No comments:
Post a Comment