They say this week the weather has been extraordinary. For her, it could have been Hell on Earth and she probably wouldn’t have noted any difference. It’s an intriguing sensation to be dead inside, nothing fazes her. It is equally tedious in the way she has to keep pretending to be happy in order for any loved ones to remain oblivious. This charade is a necessity – she is hurting enough for ten people, no need for actual company in the obscurity she keeps.
What if she caught a glimpse of hope – hope that it didn’t have to remain this way till she lay on her deathbed, but that it required her hurting someone she cared for… should she do it? If all it boiled down to was their happiness vs. her own, who could judge which mattered more?
Someone once told me that we live our lives for no one else but ourselves. It’s do or die… Perhaps in her case do or remain dead would be more appropriate. Life is a collection of small deaths preparing us for the grand finale; however sometimes we have the power to chose whether to live as a martyr or as a normal human being, faults and all.
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