"Insane", "maniac", "lunatic", her pet names, awarded to her as an unwanted present from society. What were these? Mere alphabets consolidated in a bunch of syllables that formed words? No. They were the reason for her misery. The only things that sabotaged her.
Some times, the words wreck us. We never pay heed to the destruction these alphabets hold. We have no notion how the drizzle of our words can act as a hurricane in someone's life, vandalizing it.
She was a part of this destruction as well. Crippling slowly, rotting with every passing second by the judgement she faced everyday, resulting in the dearth of her faith in fantasies. The fantasies, which were the reason of her sanity in this mad world, yet she was accused of being different. "Schizophrenic? No, you're an attention seeker". Even her command over psychedelic art couldn't earn her what she deserved. She was an innocent angel dressed in a white attire in this dark and bleak world. Unaware of everything around, with no hunch of the monstrous-cum-judgmental society.
Today, she was ridiculed again, amidst the crowded streets, among the sane people for committing the crime of dreaming. She dreamt of the other worlds and people who were just like her. She fantasized a place with no woe. She painted a valley, that she claimed, exists somewhere, far away, where we can touch the horizons and they turn into bits of glitters. A place she yearns to go because there' a downpour of stars.
"What kind of a sane person would think it rains stars?"
Some times, the words wreck us. We never pay heed to the destruction these alphabets hold. We have no notion how the drizzle of our words can act as a hurricane in someone's life, vandalizing it.
She was a part of this destruction as well. Crippling slowly, rotting with every passing second by the judgement she faced everyday, resulting in the dearth of her faith in fantasies. The fantasies, which were the reason of her sanity in this mad world, yet she was accused of being different. "Schizophrenic? No, you're an attention seeker". Even her command over psychedelic art couldn't earn her what she deserved. She was an innocent angel dressed in a white attire in this dark and bleak world. Unaware of everything around, with no hunch of the monstrous-cum-judgmental society.
Today, she was ridiculed again, amidst the crowded streets, among the sane people for committing the crime of dreaming. She dreamt of the other worlds and people who were just like her. She fantasized a place with no woe. She painted a valley, that she claimed, exists somewhere, far away, where we can touch the horizons and they turn into bits of glitters. A place she yearns to go because there' a downpour of stars.
"What kind of a sane person would think it rains stars?"
