The last time I wrote about someone’s real life story, it was a horrifying tale of a boy Elvin whose foster mother was making his life hell. I was one of the people in the link who got to hear his story, and if anyone else could be told through me, just so people know this too happens, I blogged about it.
I have another life story today, that not sharing would be dismissing, and that I can not bring myself to do. As I did before, I will be giving this child an alias too. Let’s call her “Emma”.
Emma was born in winter, and was rosy pink for exactly two days after her skin colour darkened, for no particular reason. She remembers her English teacher generalising in fifth grade, that girls usually like their fathers more than their mothers, that’s just how they are wired. And even though Emma had no reason to ever think about who she loved more, she found it her duty to defend her dad, and she said loudly and sternly in class, “I love my mom and my mom loves my dad so I love my dad double.”
Emma was never a sportsgirl, but she ran through crowded areas masterfully, her skill being dodging obstacles by slipping around them like cream. She later joined the school’s athletic team, but apprehensive of the politics it carried with it, she quit.
Emma paints in her free time, and can usually turn in a complete picture in two days, and usually likes her own work.
She was a confident speaker, and never shy of dreaming. The world was her oyster, and she believed she could live anywhere in it and do anything she wanted as nothing was too tough for her.
Emma was the model of life, of happiness and ambition. Was. All life tales become life tales with some sadness, and then the constant quest for returning to satisfaction. They are all journeys. And Emma’s had just begun.
In adolescence, her father grew distant from her, and she thought it was just one of the effects of being a teenage girl, so she didn’t think much about it. Pretty soon she couldn’t talk to her father about anything.
She had already started keeping away from sports in her school, and with increasing academic work, she stopped going out of her house in the evenings altogether.
Emma’s supple body and cool skin started getting unexplainable rashes, and currently, she has a strange bodily ache that ultrasound hasn’t explained.
She is still a rather happy girl, but not one of her family or friends still associate her with the jovial and unbelievably peppy little girl she was. This infuriates her, and she further turned her face away from these people. Emma has some AMAZING friends, the kind that are rare, and I even I admit that. She knows their worth and sticks to them. She is more than thankful for them.
Her paints, for the first time in her life, are drying. She finds herself waiting days on end for inspiration or regaining the feel for painting.
Though it may look like she’s lost something, but Emma made a really GOOD decision lately. She loves reading and learning about world cultures so she will keep doing that but she is no longer ambitious. That means, she doesn’t have big work plans or wants to be famous, she will just get a job to survive, and stay happy.
I shared Emma’s life today, because it sounds to me like the summation of everyone’s… We all make trips down similar paths. I can see areas where I am like her myself. Emma’s is a tale so strikingly normal, yet interesting, that I really wanted to log it today… Hoping, that someone will see a similarity and feel connected to this stranger girl.
Emma is very happy. But she knows she now has to work on things to stay happy.
Nothing in life will ever be as easy to access and as easy to laugh about as things were in childhood. Those are rosy days to romanticise on. Those aren’t Now.
Now, is a constant journey to stay happy. Emma is trying.