One summer afternoon, a little girl was touched by curse, nowhere to run.
The road of life in my life has never been shaped as one big straight, no matter how much I tried to see it that way. When I turn my head to see others' roads, they seem perfectly straight, forward. Well, no need to tell that in this perspective many insecurities, low self-esteem, anxiety, self-loathing, misconception of perfection, idealism, obsession, inpatientness involve in yet, me knowing the truth behind it wouldn't change any scenery. Whenever I zoom in to my road, everything would get blurry and then, all of a very sudden, I would see a spiral revolving around itself, making me unsure where's the beginning where's the ending. Nonetheless, in every case, I would be sure that I was in that place before somehow. I don't know when, I don't know where but on this grass I've never stepped on before, I can swear on my life that I even had the same shoes on. This air, these people, these buildings, these jokes, these heartbreaks, these benches... I've known them all. I've lived them all. Like a lousy sci-fi movie, I am unable to open my eyes to a new day. Wherever I run, I keep running into myself with the same exact memories. The spiral keeps turning around and around, and just when I thought it made me go far, it tosses me to the familiarity. I can't go back, I can't go far. The present, this very moment is the only thing I have as truth.
The birth and the death and everything between them.
I have nothing between them to fill them in. I have only birth and death. Birth in my heart, death in my mind. What my heart gives birth to me, my mind put it to the grave.
The cycle.
My cycle.
Am I the cycle?
How to run away the cycle if I am myselt it?
One autumn night, a girl decided to burn the curse.











