Three Part Rhapsody

by Reya Panchamatia (13 years old)

PART I - HURT

“Wait in silence, that’s my way [...] I’m not into games, not gonna play, not into your ways [...] cause I’m not going to be the one to get hurt” (Hurt)

The silent sea carried her gracefully, the ripples in the water spreading as she moved. She was no less than any other swan, except for the fact that they had all deemed her to be unworthy of their love. She was different from the other swans, they said.

They left her out when they swam around the lake, leaving her to hide alone, among the reeds. They all snapped up the fish and grass they found, eating together in each others’ presence. She was left with nothing more than a few measly remains that the others had deemed unworthy of eating. 

And as her life drifted along the vast blue expanse of water, she wished for nothing more than to be loved. That was all she had ever wanted, really. She wanted to fly high with pride, alongside the other swans, knowing that they loved her and cared about her. That was all she needed. 

As the others blossomed, growing more and more beautiful, she was left in the shadow of the reeds and the trees. Ever-watching, never coming closer. Afraid of getting hurt.

PART II - NUMB

I don’t feel a single thing [...] and the world feels too big. Like a floating ball that’s bound to break, snap my psyche like a twig. (Numb Little Bug) 

That night, her world was crushed. 

As fragile as glass, shattering into a million pieces. As easily torn apart as paper, turning into tiny fragments with little effort. It crumbled, dissipating into nothing. 

Black. Dark. Cold. 

She was lost in a maze, wandering around hopelessly in search for the exit. But she could not feel around for the wall with her numb hands. As she moved forward in the maze, she knew what was coming. 

The world outside the maze was but a distant memory. It was golden and warm, with laughter and smiles. She longed to return there, to be surrounded by people she loved and who loved her. 

But she ignored the memories. She dove in further, she continued chasing the feeling of pain. She filled herself with false hope. She whispered to herself, just a bit more. Just a bit more and you’ll find the warmth. 

She repeated this to herself day in and day out. It was engraved into her mind, etched so deep she was unsure whether it would ever stop repeating. It was like clockwork that never stopped. But instead of turning back, where she knew the warmth was waiting, her legs carried her on. 

All she wanted was that warmth, that safety, that protection. But no matter how much she screamed and begged on her knees, she never found it. 

She ignored all the signs, the way her breathing was heaving and unsteady; the tears that streamed from her eyes; the way her limbs ached. It was as if she wanted to be hurt, but who wants to be hurt? It was not human nature to want the pain. Destruction was never the goal. 

She kept going. Her legs wouldn’t stop. She kept going, until she crashed. She hadn’t seen the wall coming --  how could she, when her surroundings were pitch black? But the wall was there, and she lay there, crumpled on the floor before it. 

It was cold. So cold, she could feel every part of her body growing numb. Slowly, it felt as if her lungs were starting to freeze, too. All her organs pressed up towards her throat, like a large mass of bodies crowding together. 

She was numb. She could barely think coherent thoughts, everything was numb. Numb, numb, numbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumbnumb-

They say the hottest fires feel the coldest. That night, she burned. All that was left of her was ashes.

PART III - HIDE

A gem must shine all the time. If it does not, its value diminishes. Slowly but surely, it becomes worthless. Nothing more than a tiny rock. 

If a gem starts to grow dull, she must hide it. She must paint herself with colourful glitters and decorate herself with pretty ornaments, so that, at least on the outside, she still shines. 

If a gem starts to grow dull, no one should know. She should still sit tall and straight, with her head held high. She should be confident, but not too confident, save she come off as arrogant. She should be kind and compassionate, but not to the point where she appears weak. She should be pretty, but not too pretty, lest she entrance people with her beauty so much that they are tempted to steal. 

If a gem starts to grow dull, she will start to fall apart from the inside. This gem, however, is used to having eyes on her. She is used to hiding her feelings and thoughts behind a facade. She knows how to hide the fact that, little by little, she is becoming but a shadow of her former self. 

If a gem starts to grow dull, no one will polish her. No one will make her into a pendant or an earring, because they will simply laugh. Her? Losing her shine? Unheard of! They are too used to the act she puts on all the time. Have never even stopped to consider that there might be something else beneath the surface. 

If a gem starts to grow dull, she must suffer in silence. She must act perfect and pretty and glittering. She must hide everything. And she must hope that the heavy glitters and accessories she has decorated herself with do not suffocate her.