The Park, November 27, 2016

The park was our enchanted world once. A true escape from reality. As papa and amma waited patiently under the large looming tree, my sister and I fought for our turns and enjoyed most rides. Well … that was ages ago. The park has become a scary place now. It is filled with memories that I hardly wish to look back at. The trees, sand, bricks, plants all still exist. But great many things have changed. Things beyond my control. No matter how much I try, I can never bring myself to step in to the park. I wait near the gate. I take a quick glance across. Kids of various sizes, shapes and temperament. I wonder how anyone can be that happy! I fail to remember what had made me happy once. I see only a bunch of ant people, running around, but disorderly, and unaware of the fast-approaching giant foot ready to squish them all. It seems pointless. It gives me migraine. It makes me faint. I reach for a safe spot. For an apple juice. I bury my face in my book. The pages wipe off my tears and sweat. Onlookers disclose I can never be normal. The happiest things scare me. I cling to things that aren’t to be clung to. I fail to let go. And that hurts. Very.

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