Vantablack

Every time I stare in the mirror, I see her. A not-so-tall person, who always has a detestable look in her face.

She does not understand the meaning of love. Ever since she was a child, her parents were always away at work. She did not understand why. Being unable to enjoy life like a normal kid, she read what was left on the bookshelves, and talked to herself to keep herself company. In school, she was never the popular one. In school, she would sit in a corner, trying to understand why the people around her could smile just as easy as breathing. One time, she asked her mother about her occupation as she heard other children sharing about their parents. Her mother was busy, and asked her to stop bothering her. However, she just could not give up, and kept on asking. To her surprise, her mother slapped her in the face and asked her to go somewhere else. She did. At the end of the day, she would never live like a normal child, nor experience what it was like to be loved.

As time flies, the body, as well as the mind, grow.

In school, she picked up the skill to communicate with people. She would talk about what people would want to hear, like a sniper pinpointing her targets. Gradually, she became surrounded by a group of people. She knew that being "different" was the key to be isolated, yet ironically she chose not to be. She studied a lot, and eventually became one of the top achievers in school. People around started to be jealous of her, and began to use her for their personal benefits. Just with a glance, she could tell apart the fakers, and those who were not. Either way, she treated them the same. Perhaps she just wanted to be loved.

Proceeding to a higher form of education, her community started to grow. She started to see some of the good in people. There was once a person whom she could really call "friend." They talked, their shoulders touched, their bonds deepened. She was really beginning to see the beauty in the bonds between people. She had heard bad rumors about her "friend." She did not care. She was strict on facts only. One day, however, the rumors came true. The person whom she called "friend" had started to turn her back against her, ignoring her calls, calling her bad names, and at the moment, she knew "friend" was going to use her for her own good. She broke. For the first time, her eyes became watery, she hid in her room, dug her head in her pillow, and cried silently. Perhaps it was her first time experiencing sadness. Perhaps, she had not realized that she had been loved by someone, even though the love did not last long.

She told herself that feelings are just a burden. She moved on with an open wound. The wound was never closed.

I want to help her. I want to stitch up her wounds, but she would not let me. This is how selfish she is. She thinks she deserves nothing in this world, not even a pinch of happiness. I hate her.