Member-only story
The Three of Me
I see the battle lines more clearly now.
The division and divergence were bound to happen.
Realist! I had proclaimed most of my growing years, which was really a statement of survival.
When you go to two parties in the same dress, or watch your classmate eat lunch of rice and one measly portion of fish, when your teacher comes to class in a sheer blouse and all the girls talked about was the subject of her face, when you reckoned your two older brothers forget you and you strained not to look so afraid because fear, like blood, attracts sharks… When you see that the dollar your mom gave you for joining the Guides can not be broken into smaller bits simply because you wanted that sweet thing for it’s been a long tiresome day at school….
Don’t you too have stories like this, even as a child, that tutored your heart to loosen on the dreams and ideals, and that the only way to make it through is to be a Realist, to get real, to get going, to get out of the way.
Except.
When that cat decided you make a good home, the flowers start to burst forth after months, when a magazine prints your story, when the sun came out after all the long weeks of dark dreary waiting, when someone falls in love with you.