Notification for readers; this is flash fiction, total 487 words, thank you for reading.
This city, The stories and Some wishes.
That’s the thing about this city, she is glorious, when you just glance. The lights, the energy, the artificiality, yes, it’s all exiting, it’s all distraction, but you will have to bear the everyday stress, sound, and smog if you want to stay with the glory.
Aah, I wish that I didn’t have to end up here, like this; even two years ago, it was less choking.
That’s the thing about this city, she wants to tell a story...
Well, I know a story, about a girl who chased dreams and liked to be curious.She seemed to have great potential; several people helped her chase her dreams. Everyone thought that she was brilliant, even if a bit irksome.
She met more people, became more helping, efficient and known. She grew with the help of others, even if most barely noticed her. Still, somewhere, she stopped chasing dreams, she got rooted in the delusional reality, she started hating being.
And that, is my past, something that makes the present more horrendous.
I wish that I could end the present so that I didn’t have to face the future, shrewd as it is.
That’s the thing about this city, she have stopped being shy, she have reached out more, met more people, creating bonds, but, she also separates those people from each other with her own will and presence.
I wish that I knew who is who, people used to weave facades but none were as intricate as these.
That’s the thing about this city, she becomes more beautiful, more advanced, more glorious, flocking people, but inside, she also became more ugly, more crude, more irksome, to others and to herself.
I wish that I could turn myself back into being happy, and simple, here. Why can nothing be less complicated, less maddening?
And, that’s the thing about this city, she loves to tell stories...
Yes, I love to tell stories, but what was I telling you now?, an explanation?, an observation?, a suicidal note?
I wish that I would kill myself...
Because they don’t listen to me and my stories?, Because they don’t notice that I also live? Why Don't they?!
Or........, are you one of them too? Too deaf to even know that everyone you talk to Lives? Too blind to see that every other creature of your species, every other animal, Lives? Then how can I hope that you will hear my voice, my stories and understand?, and understand...
Did I, did I change you all into mindless creatures? A-am I responsible?
Or did You change me into a coward who doesn’t have the guts to make her wishes true?
My life, thriving, confusing, and subtle...
I wish that someone understands it before it ends, which one day, somehow, it will.
That, that is the thing about this city, only one will know that she lived, until she stops living.