Immortalise Tattletale

Black marker awaited his round once again while the girl swayed Blue marker on that white spread paper. He had his which appeared to be 'Fears' and 'Strategies' smeared on it. The girl cautiously inscribed the text from her scribbled note to the paper. She felt restless. Beside her, a friend in pain. She was tearing since noon. Affection matters. They both somehow connected in a distinctive path. To ardour is an agony to one's self. That's who they are.

She is somewhat, cut by her friend's despair. Even from other's. Turning her into a lament being. Some called her pathetic cry-for-nothing, others define it as overly sensitive. She had no offence on that. Listening to the fellow's wailing she kept her writing still. The task needs to be finalise. But at the same time to give a shoulder for the needs.

Long enough, her friend went out of the room to do her laundry. Few moments past. She suddenly captured a soft sob. One to another. She tried to calm her from afar. Unconciously her fist cling together irritatively, later only to realise that what should be printed in blue was black instead. Her head filled with anger, hatred towards this adam scorching her friend's heart. Then it shifted to fear, fear to love and fear to be loved.

Everything seemed to fog. Once again. To her contemplation, affection doesn't have to have a mark. To be declared with a certain...term. But more to care for each other- equals to her friend's position. The friend's scene : to acknowledge each others devotion but the bond remained unnamed. Her's : excommunicated. This, draws more dread towards her. It's nothing to her but the fear, grew more and more beyond her knowledge. Likewise, it's better to seal shut.

Now her friend is resting. She, still putting together the pieces of her thoughts and beliefs. Why does she needs to care so much for this little thing that will definitely causing her agony? Because she is a normal being, who can never run from it. God destinied this to every single adam and eve. Perhaps, the time is yet to come. Then this part of a song kept repeating in her mind every now and then.

Immortalise the rise...

Distinctive yet distinguished.