Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Chances taken and...

She was tired of having to put on the facade day in and day out. A part of her was screaming to be let out. She wanted to breathe. A part of her had been stifled for far too long.
She wanted the child in her to come out. B'coz strange as that may sound, even a person like her had a child inside. and that child had been caged for as long as she could remember.
She couldn't act mature anymore without killing that child in her forever. She didn't want to do that.

She wanted to feel wanted as a child, not as the no-nonsense woman she was to the world.
She didn't doubt that she would be accepted.
She took the leap of faith. 

Unabashedly she went about strutting her childishness, engaging in delightful nonsense and whispering cute nothings in ears that cared to stop and listen.

The reactions were of all possible kinds. Some good, some bad, some indifferent, some not having the eyes to notice the change.
The person whose reaction mattered the most was confused.
Of all things that could have gone wrong, this was the most deadly.
This confused her; she was perplexed.She wasn't prepared for the uncertain responses and the ambiguous comments. In showing her vulnerability, she had wished for vicarious confidence in being accepted with confidence. She had not known that one part of her had so overpowered this another part that it got so difficult for this other part to be recognised.

She wanted answers.Wasn't her repressed side more lovable? Yes, it was more demanding and harder to please, yet, wasn't it more honest, more forthcoming in being so? Agreed that it was too vivacious at times, bordering on being a maniac. But couldn't she take such liberties once in a while, for all the maturity and reserve of all the years behind her? 

She had no time to look for answers. She couldn't wait long for the alleviation of confusion.

She had to go back to reality. The child didn't make for a very good survivor of reality after all.
She better saved the child for the more sensible world of her imagination.

She had taken her chances. And missed.

But whose loss was more? Hers or that of the world?


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