Feed the Muse: Inner Monologues (Vol. I) [√]

[ not a happily ever after ]

I think some people were born sad. I think some people have natural melancholy burning inside their bodies, have the inevitable case of loneliness in their chests, and somehow, they could no longer keep themselves warm enough to give off hope in the form of a smile. And if they do, it requires too much effort to lift the corners of their mouth into what you would call a grin, but it is them saying "I am trying."

Every day they wake up to the sun on the horizon, but the weather will always be bleak, the wind cutting, the air filled with the heaviness of their souls. They walk with their heads down, searching along the cracks in the pavement for the sort of happiness they find in everyone they come across with; like a lucky coin found on the road. Their shoulders hunched, a sign of exhaustion from having to go out in a useless quest for something they could not define, something out there but still far from their hands, and so they continue as broken pieces; do not push them too hard or you will end up with shattered fragments.

They contemplate life and ask why it does not just give joy to everyone who deserves it, because they have this mindset that they need it the most; to be happy, that is. To feel loved, to be loved, but they could not let someone get too close for fear of suffocating the other person with their constant need of attention, their never-ending demand for familiarity. They have battered egos, they have wounded knees, from always having to fall into despair, always having to feel misery clasping around their necks, breathing into their ears, "I got you."

If only everyone could see the battle behind their eyes, the inner turmoil they are experiencing inside their minds, then you would know the struggle between staying in between realities. If everyone could only see the dark shadows on their faces, the way they look so lost, then you would know they could not sleep enough to drive the demons away.

They are living tragedies, in the hopes of gaining a happy ending. But they know that Cinderella could have been imprisoned for false identity, that Belle could have shot the hideous Beast, that Sleeping Beauty could have been dead and not sleeping, that Snow White could have been nothing but a cunning little girl pretending to be so good with animals. They know that in the end, no one really is happy and that will be the greatest tragedy of them all.