I wrote this a few days before prom. Things didn't change much, though. However, I'm really happy nowadays. I can truly sense the sadness and the loneliness of the me from before by just reading the first few lines...


A Butterfly's Fall


The butterfly was finally free. It had forced its way out of the cocoon. I did it! Yet, something was wrong. That butterfly could not fly. Its wings were already dry, yet it could not fly. It looked up. Something's around me! Please help me...Who would you silly thing? Don't you realize - this world does not need YOU!


Defeated, she cried.

She had admitted to herself that she was weak. Why did she sign up again? Was it because of peer pressure? Was it because she decided to tap into her talents? Oh, that's right. She liked theater. Yet, the pressure was too much - a teacher wanted them to submit their scripts first thing next week, another had been angry at them because of time, and she had been, yet again, blinded by the cyber world. Promises turned to ashes. I'm so useless.

She admitted to herself that she was alone. Noting that she only had a few friends - no, allies - around her, they are not as mature as she. She had a perspective too philosopher-like; those allies she thought of were, she deemed, childish. She had no one to speak out her thoughts to, especially at dismissal. She had talked to herself, trying to create a masterpiece - all in vain, only fueling her wish to be released from this pain easily.

She began to believe that writers and artists were alone, fueled by this loneliness that they struggled to create a masterpiece to feel good about themselves. Why, yes, she thought, her art style was really good; she claimed to have fallen in love with one of her drawings. She loved them; she treasured them. She would not let her anyone have their hands on them, unless with permission. She believed they were perfect in her eyes. Her obra maestra's were her only joy.

She began to notice she actually had a mental illness - that internal struggle. She had viewed several works, and began to understand those pieces of literature. No one around me, she remembers. Where was that poem? She wandered through the Internet, hoping to get a glimpse - no luck. How disappointing! Why did you let it go?!

She can no longer find inspiration that would supply her mind with ideas for her school works. It started in the morning. It was so cold; the wind had lulled her again. When she got up again, it was almost noon. After brushing her teeth and having a little snack, she grabbed her notebook and switched it on. A few moments later, she had lunch. She went back to her notebook, and originally intended to find Indonesian music and names, but, something just halted her. What was that thing?! She did not know - she had let time pass. When it came to her senses, it was already five in the afternoon. Heck, she couldn't even do her homework in History, her favorite subject. Why could she not think straight?

She cried to herself. She cried through the night. She needs help, she even refused to let her family see. Please?

I beg you. Please help me. I want to attend prom happily.


I'm sorry, my younger self.