She lurched through the pavement, the pavement of the forsaken park, under the acheronian sky of the forgotten night. She could not walk further but she still tried to. The destination was as orphic as a uniform maze, but she persisted to reach it. She thought her philosophic ideas could be some helping hands. She thought her dramatic actions would be the feet for her next steps. She thought her own eyesight was enough. She envisaged the wrong things all the way she took another steps. She thought the pavements would lead her to the light that she aspired to see. She thought the beacon light was there. Like a little child cozened by the dilettanteish Cinderella story, she thought all darkness would naturally summon some resplendent rays. She was way too wrong. She did not know that, of course.<br /><br />She believed in many things. When asked why she believed in A, she said she had reasons for that. When asked why she believed in B, she said she had justifications too. Her answers almost revolved 360 degrees when the guests were gone with their coats. She thought her self-proclaimed, royal conceptions of herself would accompany her throughout the loneliness, but ultimately, boy, she was wrong, again. She was not sure of herself. Her cloddish, defensive brain did not tell her that, so that was not what her pensive, obtuse body followed. Jackie O, Audrey Hepburn, and Athena were in her friend list; her imaginary friend list. She never realized the ‘imaginary’ part, of course.<br /><br />She still believed the lines of rainbow were her best friends though she could not really distinguish their exact colors. She also thought that her impossibly statuesque boyfriend was there, strongly supporting her from the back, fortifying her fragile spine. She thought, yes exactly, she thought. It never had been he thought, they thought, the ministers thought, or the prophet thought, it always had been “she thought”. She had been soaked in her own delusional sea of thoughts. Saddening and mortifying, she, herself, had been doing that to her soul. She narcotized herself with cocaine, Lofan, and ecstacy with total oblivion as her best comrade. She thought everything was safe and sound. She never thought the sea could be tumultuous in the future. Sometimes she realized that it was very boisterous, but her deceptive faiths convinced her it was not. She thoughts her faiths were her angels, but in fact they were her devils, love-children of Lucifer and Lilith. She thought she was walking with glory to the divinely embellished heaven, but hell, she was wrong again.<br /><br />Her life for her was the real one. She considered it the truth among the lies. For her, that was the pellucid truth; her life was the truth and she could be legendary for that. She never knew her cutest cloud was actually her ugliest nebule. She did not realize that of course. Yes, she did not realize so many things. She merely believed in herself, but who was she to be believed in? She never left the thirst of that question quenched.<br /><br />These should be enough to introduce her. Words could describe her well since she never had been a goddess. A low-life she was. A bitch could puke over her face and her porcelain skin could never get that eschewed. Her lackadaisical walk finally stopped upon her surprising fall into a creek. The pavement that she thought was pavement was not actually one. It was a narrow, deserted, grassless path that brought her to the wrong end; the end that inspired her own doom. She was all wet. Then, she stood up and heard the resonant voice of epiphany from the stony creek. Her ears were full with water, but the sound still managed to penetrate in. The creek had reflected the moonlight well; at least well enough to make the water glimmer. She saw the reflected light. She heard the voice. She smelled the seductive scent of her scintillating future. Then she spoke out the word of deep bravery. She whispered to her wet palms that she wanted to come back. Her whisper actually echoed to the whole cosmos. She was heard. She finally realized something. She was somewhat not in the right path. This time her realization was not in her imagination, it was in her reality.
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