Defective Reflections

Survivor

The other brand seemed much more reliable and as I step forward to grab the carton, a man bolts past, knocking it out of my hand. I stoop to pick it up and suddenly two people push me so hard that I stumble and what I see next is people rushing towards the exit, the entrance and the emergency doors. The alarm goes off and everyone panics. I panic. I go with the crowd and I immediately realize that there are people everywhere. There were eyes behind, beside, below and above. I was being pushed, and pulled, and rushed. I struggled till I could to get past this jumble; to free myself from this never ending chaos, but we hadn't even reached the door then. I had, in a flash of a second, gone blind. There was a violent push and I fell hard. People didn't look at me; they didn't stop to help me back up. They didn't notice me and kept forging ahead with all of their strength. My muscles ached from the thump as I touched the ground and my bones screamed with silence ingesting the pain as my mouth failed to echo out the words my body felt. My nerves pumped blood as water rushing and gushing rocks through a narrow but pliable cave. A man steps on me as he runs to his survival, making my stomach whirl with anticipation to throw up. A kick is made at my head and waist enabling a vein to burst open and my skin to tear apart to reveal the cardinal, red color on the dusty bricked floor.

I wanted to get up, to push my way back but as a boot is pressed to my face and chest with tremendous force; I give up the struggle to breathe. I give up hope. I give up striving to be at the front and I realize I've finally found a way to peace and quiet. And I let them step on me, to kick me, to hurl me out of the way.

This is what being in a stampede feels like.

No.

This is what life feels like.

This is how being alive feels like.

But this isn't the end. This pain is just a reminder that I'm alive and that I'm a fighter and I will fight my way back. This is just the beginning and I lie low; waiting for the crowd to beat me till I take my last breath, till I heave my last sigh. And as the crowd clears; I get back up. Slowly. Gradually. I put my bloody hands on the bricks and try to push myself up, failing in my first attempt; rolling on to one side; getting back up; trying not to give up. There is hope. There is always hope. I don't care if people don't care. I don't care if they don't notice me. I'll push my way back and prove them all wrong.

People underestimate me and all that I live by now, is in vain to prove them all wrong. To prove that I am not what they think I am; to prove that I am so much more; to prove that I have so much more to show! Don't jump to conclusions; don't judge me so. Judge me a little slower, for I carry so much more. "Always respect me. For I am the shameful and the magnificent."

I'm a survivor.

And I will always survive.