The Duckling

Posted on September 10, 2008


It felt so right, you and me like a story made up to fit a child’s dream. Ugly as an eye sour, defined by society’s prejudicial code, rode the dream with her eyes closed. The treacherous terrain wrought by anguish and pain, longing and strain often mended by hope so vain. Distracted and suckered into superficial vanity that did little to hide the facial deformity, hope stapled her eyes to her true identity. The duckling powered with her gift of instinctive reality that stirred her into a world of intellectual conformity to rid herself of this soul-eroding social mentality.

Soon she strode into a world of perpetual reality, amidst a herd of mocking vanity to cope with her own lack of superiority. She found her calling in hawking superficiality with flair of aristocratic hypocrisy. As she worked her way up the ladder of utter ruin with a vision of an over-enthusiastic delusional optimistic tyro’s acumen, cupid trots unexpectedly through the door. Suddenly, the pigeon hole that the duckling shared with the other four inmates seemed like worth staying. Possibilities awakened, undertook the task of masking the bewitched duck, hiding her from jagged mirrors that threatened reveal what she dreadfully feared. The day did what it could, she met him met under false pretext, tried and failed at every quest.

Words were left unsaid, moments fled, happiness didn’t last, her dreams were only just a another cast, to materialize at when she wanted hope to last. It was then she realized that it wasn’t her that cupid came for, he was meant for another. She smiled and she played a part of fourth wheel while they rode the cloud, only wishing she could tear her apart. Soon the duckling abandoned the hole for another, only to fly free from this agonizing never-to-be-realized dream. She bid farewell to everyone without unleashing the stream, as significant as this departure seemed, the emotion in him was lacking, for he seemed to be casually reacting to this parting. The unconscious lifted its unseemly overprotective mist on her life which seemed to take a untimely twist.

Resolute in her quest to emotionally purge herself of this unfair disastrous soul- shattering amorous misadventure, she joined an ego-wreaking call centre. Time flew quickly like dry autumn leaves on lonely melancholy tall trees, savagely divulging every past error for the audience to please. The duckling soon met her love lost while designing posters for jester Rob. She unsuccessfully befriended him, with un-impactful words that only seemed to cave in. Moments came and went, attempts were made, eyes cried for attention with actions that defied convention, but alas it was one-sided affection that left a long standing impression.

Time did what it does best, blew away dreams with everything else. The duckling retained her unfortunate handicap, never really fit into any kind of social habitat. She toiled hard night and day, her mirror lied, her eyes betrayed, friends never stayed, and lovers never strayed to close to make her stay. She wore pain, disappointment and unceasing turmoil like the superficial smile that adorned her. Everybody moved on to another emotional state, she stayed immature to this very day. Cause it was the only thing that kept her going, was a hope that someday someone would fish her out of this ruin. Without having to miraculously turning into a beautiful swan, to make her more deserving to a life worth living.

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