words

There once was a girl.

She didn’t take life too seriously and was often amused at her own inner thoughts. Maybe it’s cause she had a lonely childhood and developed a vivid imagination. Shameful but true. Shameful but glad, actually.

So when she was quite young, her head was always buried in books and magazines aimed at a much older audience. She would read the dictionary because she loved words. She had the worst staring problem. She would pay attention to the slightest details of her surroundings. She spent her time writing poetry, drawing, playing dress ups, watching ‘rage’ and listening to the radio on ear phones so she wouldn’t disturb anyone. She remembered the one time in early primary school when she was caught by a bunch of peers, dancing and singing around a tree at playtime, by herself. Pause for laughter. The vivid imagination was ridiculed!


She came to see that everyone’s constructed in different ways and to see the world from a different angle is so much more wonderful than anything else. She pitied those constrained by a conventional way of thinking (not in a bitter way but a truly sympathetic way).


Some people just aren’t capable of expanding their mind.

Some people miss out on the true beauty of life.