She had smiles for breakfast, and twinkles for lunch. She searched for rainbows and fairies and roasted them for dinner. All things nice and everything magic was what she craved. So she ate them all. She ate them whole. She ate them pretty. 

The difference between right and wrong were opinions in this case. Prejudices were running high and the pit of the stomach churned out anger, despise, disappointment like it was nothing. People close to her did not know what was to be done. People who did not know her thought their understanding of her mentality was supreme. Other people probably did not give a damn.

She had always asked herself what she would do when faced with an impossible choice. Would she choose logic and rationality and principles or crude and unfounded sentiments of close-d ones? The time had come when it was taken out of her hand and handed back to her with plot twists that make thrillers look tame.

The choice was simple. Choose what is right. The difficulty being that her right was so very wrong for the unpolished minds of the middle-class.

She had come to the conclusion that she would still stick with her ideals. Morals and principles were important. You’ve got to have a spine. Stand up for what you believe in. Otherwise you are just another hypocrite you don’t like. And she hated not liking herself.

The chaos in her head was organised it seemed. It was armed and ready for attack. She was surprised that anything in her life could be so organised; so ...so planned.

The price was too much to pay, or was it? Can you really forgo something you love for someone you love? Time will tell, wont it? She was getting tired of the questions. All it bore were more questions.

All her life she had thought she was a good person. She thought she cared about others in her life more than she cared about her needs. She just never thought she would be in a position to test that theory. Expectations have always been a burden. But, aren’t you supposed to be able to move mountains for people you love? She didn’t know. She just did not know.

Going through the motions of it all, she was tired. She was tired of questioning herself. She was going to let the chips fall into place. Meanwhile, the dark corner of her head, where everything was mundane and nothing spoke or stirred, beckoned her more and more.

She put her head to her knees, closed her eyes and hummed an old tune. Her dark place awaited. 

She knew he had seen her just fine, standing at the edge, arms wide open, eyes closed. She was glad he had not come to her, glad for the heroism he lacked and the empathy he did not have. 

She knew he had looked on, wondering what her next move was. He had watched her legs shaking and her hair blowing in the wind. She was glad that he had walked away; glad he had never bothered to look back.

She had taken the leap. She had fallen; fallen on to the soft clouds of relief. She had walked through the slowly lifting fog of pain. She had survived the haziness of repressed memories. It felt good. She was glad he was not a better man. 

She did not what to say. Or think. So she brooded over the dilemma.

Her mind felt like a bottomless pit. Talking was a chore. Thinking was work. Working was automated.

She used to be able to fight. She used to be able to cry. Now she gulps it in and later thinks about not talking about it.

Is it better this way? Has it made a difference? At what age do you stop making mistakes? At what age do you learn to be exactly what you wanted to be? She did not know. She did not even try to think whether she cared.

Mistakes are a part of life. She had learnt this lesson so early in life that it did not hurt anymore. She knew her mistakes were of the grave kind. Kinds that changed her a little bit every time. However, these were as much a part of her as were her pains and her smiles.

Fighting was so much harder now than before. It was easier to ignore. Tomorrow is always a new day. 

“Oh you thought that the universe carries some sort of justice system? How very smart of you! No one gives a shit! “

And with these profound words chiming in her mind, she continued the conversation with herself. Sometimes that was what she needed the most; a good shakedown from her worst critique- herself.

She had once named her alter ego- Elizabeth. The name was not thought out properly. It was the first thing that came to her mind, because of course Pride and Prejudice is the way to go if you are choosing names. She had abandoned that name a long time ago, but the memories stuck. The time spent with Lizzy was worthwhile. She had learnt to believe in herself that way. That was how she had talked herself out of many situations. That is still how she manages to calm herself.

She wonders sometimes how her alter ego is so wise when her real self has the biggest foot-in-mouth syndrome. Then she thinks about something else. Lizzy does not have the answer to everything. Although, she does have some witty quips.

So, yeah, the conversation. This time it was about how people get what they don’t deserve.

A bit old, don’t you think? People get what they get. They don’t get what they deserve.

Yeah well, she remembered the line. It had seemed so practical that it had hit her like a cold wind in june. Doesn’t mean it’s fair, is it?

Yes like everything is, isn’t it? The world is messed up. Deal with it.

Profound! Did you just come up with it?

And she went back to looking for things to do while at the back of her mind, a little her was pounding the hell out of a dude named justice.

She could never forget herself, but she knew what it was like to be forgotten. She could see it, feel it in her bones. Missed messages, calls unanswered. And then slowly making you feel like you are fading away from their memories and present moments. They don’t remember you when they see something you would like. They don’t laugh about happy memories anymore. You just cease to exist in their daily humdrum of routine-ness.

Even the expected can cause that sense of sadness that no matter how fleeting burns through your conscious. She nursed the burn with the wet coldness of trying-not-to-think-about-it. The paradox laughed, rolling on the floor.