Disclaimer: All the characters, places, names and situations are fictions. They are not made to offend any individual's identity or thoughts. They are just character background and my characters do not define me, but just my thoughts for the character. I also request my readers to not have any biased mindset, the stories are meant to stir some feelings in you, so just go with the flow and enjoy. Please do not copy the stories and repost them.
Love💜
P.S.: I own the photo!
Copyright © WD, 2021 All rights reserved.
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My world has a difficult life. People everywhere live in several boundaries and struggle to be something or someone they are not. I am a woman, but none of my habits were feminine. The general picture of a girly girl everybody has, let's recapitulate it. The girls are supposed to be clean, with no hair on the body surface but beautiful long, silky, thick hair on the head, perfectly shaped brows, long curled lashes, big doe eyes, nose sitting straight and sharp. And with lips that can compel people to kiss them right away. She is supposed to have a slender, long neck with smooth skin, a neck that will fit with all beautiful turtlenecks and such that those pretty sparkly pendants could boast about its owner. Going further below her curves should be something everyone should swoon over. She is expected to be thin but yet has perfectly round-ups and downs, the desirable "8" figure that is supposed to be like a puzzle piece that fits in every man's arms. And below it svelte legs milky white in color only the sight of which can be a red alert for seduction.
This is the ideal girl my society demands a fair and pretty doll. And that is how everyone expected me to be, but I was born different. I have always had a whole body warm and filled with fats and muscles, all of which are saggy now, covered all around with golden-brown hair. I can say that my body has more hair than the hair on my head, and that is okay. I have a beautiful belly which shows my extreme love for food. My face had spots from pimples and acne, I never wanted to hide them behind plastered makeup so I flaunted them. Now I flaunt my wrinkles. I don't have milky white color. I am angelic honey brown colored with dark, thick lips and crooked teeth.
I find myself very lovable and beautiful. The world wanted me to hate myself from the very start I came in here, so I decided to rebel. The more they demanded to get pretty...the more I became beautiful. With every day passing by, I became more truthful to myself, and by the age where every girl glows pretty, I became confined. Big oversized clothes became my go-to attire, shoes or slippers, no high heels because I simply did not believe that someone would catch me falling.
People around me were partying, club discos, and checking on their list of several "Firsts". I was busy finding puppies around my house to play with them. If not puppies, I was busy babysitting kids and teaching them some of my ideologies. Whether anyone or not kids still tell me that they love me. These things gave me temporary happiness but to be body-shamed at your own house. It took away every little smile that I had. It's not ill of them, they expected a normal child. They feared I might be left too alone if I kept up with my ideas, that I would lose opportunities just because I don't look a certain way, they loved me very much so they were concerned too. They thought shaming me might bring me to change but they were wrong.
My days were passing by and shocking revelations took me down to the roads of depression. I tried to stay away and I tried to return, but the evil voices had the power to pull me down again. One day I was struggling to climb up when out of nowhere the flower boy came into my life. Was he a reality or just an angel sent from above to rescue me was a mystery I didn't want to solve. Today when my dementia-stricken brain is struggling to remember everything I had, he remains fresh in there. Fresh like those wildflowers, daisies, peonies, and lilacs that he had. While I have grown old and withered, he is still smelling fresh near me, caressing my cold and wrinkled face with his warm hands. If you could step in here to see, it would seem like my handsome grandchild is taking care of me. But he is my lover boy.
That day when I was not able to pull myself up, he was the one who offered his firm hands and pulled me out. Those voices lured me again. I would have fallen again, but he put up his flower shop there just before the wrong road started. He blocked it for me. It's a good thing no flowers were plucked; they were well attached to their plants and bloomed sweet-smelling. It was a perfect place for me. I wanted to be there, impress him and keep him, for the first time I felt like kicking off those big clothes and wearing something which showed me better, but I was afraid and I saw how he always looked deep in my eyes, never wandering down to find what usually boys want. So I scrapped the idea and stayed the way I was, madly in love.
His shop was no more a shop, it became a garden, the garden where I fell in love, where he lived. Everything seemed like a dream that I could not believe, I was happy. At times we would sing songs and he would take my hands during jazz songs and make me dance with him. We would eat together and sleep hand in hand. We would trim and water the plants together and watch the flowers bloom together. But that day, I decided to listen to everyone around me in my world, I neglected them for too long. Their taunts, laugh, and curses had increased by many folds… without my realization. It felt like my life lost a few days in between, and in those days people went insane. I had no idea. I was scared. Everyone around me was shouting loud voices and banging noises, blames being thrown on each other lastly ended up on me. What have I done? I lived with my blossoming love when here, the reality was running after me to kill me. I was so petrified that those long-lost trails of tears found their way back. The dam gates got open and the forceful gushing water destroyed every blooming plant that he planted. I had angst and rage wrapped with fear in me. I could not lift my legs to walk up to him. My room, dark, all those voices piercing deep in my soul. I had no idea when I took off all my clothes and set fire to them when I smudged the mascara and that red lipstick on my face, I don't remember when I put up all those wax strips on my almost naked body. All I remember is crying my soul out.
And then he came, his naturally happy eyes were worryingly sorry. He was not sorry for what my world did to me but he was sorry that he was not near me. I stood there half naked and unlike other days I could not smile at his sight, he was looking at me, for the first time his eyes left mine to wander down below the body that had been under covers. Smudged cranberry lipstick, mascara forming several rails down my cheeks, honey and mint-flavored wax strips on my body. He saw them all, he saw me at my worst. Tears were already dried and I stood beside my burning clothes in that bin. After analyzing everything, he ran over to me… he did not try to cover me or something but he just let his hands engulf my cheeks. He made me look into his eyes with his tight grip, he was fierce and that scared me even more. His willowy fingers, slightly withered by rose thorns, rubbed off the mascara marks and tears started to build up again. And just before the explosion came to the devastation when he tasted my cranberry lipstick. We had our fair share of touching and pecking but that kiss was our first, he was nervous, I was scared, he was in some hurry as if someone might pull him away. Our first kiss was miserable from a third eye but more than perfect from ours. We had emotions of love that were more than love itself, I wish I could name it something else.
Once the peak of those flooded emotions subsided, he made me sit on the bed. Covered me in sheets and brought warm towels and water, he did not pull those strips just made them wet and washed me clean, he was gentler than the down feathers of a birdling. I still was in the aftershocks of all that angst and rage, so I asked him, "Do you like the real me?". My question must have been inappropriate because I saw the tinge of anger in his deep eyes, I could sense that the gentleman was lost again as he jumped on my bed, sat on his crouched legs, and pulled me up, even when I was in sheets I could feel his strong grip on my waist and I was almost on his laps. He came near me, his lips brushing near my exposed neckline as the sheets slipped down. Damn those sheets I was feeling cold, all my clothes were burnt and the fire was out. As he spoke, the chills down my spine transported as with every pulse, my blood turned into snow crystals, I had goosebumps all over. He saw that, and he knew I didn't listen to what he said, he smiled, that rage in his eyes vanishing into oblivion, he brought me closer into his embrace and repeated "I love the real you", only if he would have allowed me to contemplate I would have blushed like strawberries but he with his brisk movements he was already inside my sheets and his lips on mine. We were kissing again this time in sync with calmness though our hearts had the most abnormal beating we were keeping up, we were making love.
And after what seemed an eternity, when we were intertwined together he took my hands, kissed them and said, he was there to take me with him, to his world where no one would have bothered me. But because he loved me, he was going to let me live. He told me that the life I was going to have further was a gift from him, my lover's gift, I had to live it better. He promised me that he will come back to take me when the clocks turn again, but not that time. I wanted to be with him but since he gave me a gift I had to respect that. He closed the doors of hell and opened the ones for heaven and the path between that he paved them with flowers, the path was my life, my gift. So I lived my life to the fullest, teaching love, painting passion, singing melodies, dancing off the worries, and eating good food. I lived a life saving the distracted souls from falling off the cliff and helped them find their flowered paths. I couldn't fall in love without him but other than that I had the best time here. Now that he is back, caressing me I know it's time to depart to his place and live with my love forever.
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