Let me Peck you mind

I might not be the one who’d walk around wearing a huge grin and speaking to all my relatives that I’ve seen after years, but that doesn’t mean I know them any less. I know them just as much as you do. I know what’s going on in your mind even if you’re pretending to look as if you care about me. The only bit you care tells me that you think I’m impolite. Rude. Uncivilized… But, am I really? Say, I can’t speak at all… you’d feel sorry for me. But being able to but not choosing to makes me rude in your opinion. Maybe it never crossed your mind why I prefer listening to you that speaking. Maybe that’s why you look at me that way. I hope you’d learn one day and realize you were wrong to think that way. To some people, I’m a joke. An entertainment, something to laugh at. I like to make people forget their woes but it hurts when they do so by hurting me. But then again, I’m guessing you don’t know why I am who I am today. My words will reach an ear or too… they’d say I’m just a drama queen, the other would ponder on the words for a few minutes and maybe even like this post. There’d be someone who reads this and likes the way the words portray a picture of a wounded girl. They wouldn’t click on the ‘like’ button or comment because they’d be afraid of revealing themselves to me… But at the end of this post, I haven’t got an explanation for any of this or why you shouldn’t laugh at me or think the way you do. All I’ve got to say is that my life’s a story big enough to me and in this story, I’ve been scarred almost as much as I’ve been surrounded with love. And these scars aren’t going to vanish whether you think I’m rude or not. But I’d rather you not.


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