GRAY

In the middle of nowhere. At a misty time. Beside nobody. With some uncertainty. Do you ever get this feeling where you stand on a line between feeling too much and feeling nothing at all? When I was a little girl, I used to watch people smiling and used to just smile with them. Now I watch people crying and try to guess a possible reason. I used to watch birds flying wondering the places they would go. Now I watch people leaving wondering if they will ever come back. I used to see my beloved ones blowing birthday candles. Now I just wonder how much more time I will be able to spend with them. At those times, I used to believe in everything I would be told. Now I approach people just so suspiciously. I used to sleep happily with my teddy bears. Now it's the lack of people that cause me to have sleepless nights whose spaces teddy bears remain insufficent to fill. By then, I used to believe in fairytales. Now the reality of life is what makes me surprised. And when I was a little girl, the world used to seem white. Or pink.Now all I see is the pieces of gray. The war between good and bad. The collaboration between lie and truth. The conflict between dreams and realities. The union of black and white. I never know at what point everything has turned upside down. It seems that it is only that little girl whom I can expect to hear an explanation. Forwhy, she is the me, who has never been abandoned, the me who has no doubts about none, the me who has never witnessed the evil of the world, or people. Moreover, since she is the me who has never lied, the me who hasn't left anyone, the me who hasn't made anyone cry, the me who has no harms to someone or to something. No matter where I go, there I am. With my scars, tears, blames, guilts, discomfort... To tell the truth, a part from that little girls has never left. The part that believes in fairytales. Yet, things about them didn't go well down here. Can you prove me that fairytales don't go always bad?