Is it my parents' fault for making me like this, or do I have to blame myself? These thoughts only torture me without presenting me with a clear solution.
Just as usual, I lie in my bed, thinking about those winners. Will I never be like them? Do I have to remain as a loser for the rest of my life? It seemed like fates do exist; no matter how hard you try to change your life, your fate functions as a barricade so that you accept your given destiny. Okay, fine. I do not want to be a winner, nor I can be. But let me hope for at least one tiny wish: make me a girlfriend. I want a good-looking girlfriend so beautiful that other people cannot take their eyes off. I want an altruistic girlfriend who will always be there for me whenever I am sad.
She lay plaint in his arms, her head lolled against his shoulder. I could see her smile over her glossy hair. She looked up at him with a smile on her face. Her cheek was blushed pinkly. Her bright face was barely recognizable. Because she never showed me such one. I had never seen her so happy, so calm. It was as though she was wearing a mask of someone else. A mask colored with bright pink, its edge glittering with gold dust. A soft feather milk and rose, tickling his shoulder.
I reminded last night, when she and I were sitting on the bed together, the mask was a cold blue. A silvery teardrop dangled in the corners of her eyes, and a whitish hue made her look pale. The delicate blue mask seemed like it would break at any moment. She met my eyes directly and poured out her desperation. She whispered to me how I was the only shoulder to cry on. My heart gave a huge lurch. There was something with her dewy eyes that made me have a total faith in her. Her appealing words always brought me to her heel.
Yet she was not always with the fragile blue mask. At times, the blue mask hardened into a sleek, red one. The words from her red lips penetrated deep into my heart. In front of her and her sharp words, I became trivial. The red mask, a color of a blood, made me feel small.
her mask was a gloomy purple, an irritated yellow, and a bottomless black. But a blushing pink, I had never such delighted shyness on her. It was as if she was not a person I knew. I revealed every bit of me to her. From time to time, she knew me better than I did. But apparently, I was the only one naked. She was, and always has been disguising herself with a multitude of masks. I gave a look at her rosy face once more, trying to imagine the true face behind the mask.
Except, even if she had showed me her true face, I would not have been able to recognize it.
What a dream, I thought. I wanted a kind girlfriend, not one that overwhelms and makes me feel small. So, I am still a loser in my own dream; that is how I picture myself. It is not a matter of reality or fantasy; the problem is that I was born as who I am right now. What an awesome life! I can't believe that I struggled to stay alive till now, just to accept the fact that even my deepest consciousness thinks I am a loser.
Bye, cruel world.
BANG!
