Misfit.

misfit

April clicked another round of pictures of the astonishingly alluring hill view. She certainly wasn’t much of a photographer, but her photos had the air of happiness in them. She drops herself on the grass, and looks up at the sky which looked like it was reflecting her blank state of mind.

It had been three days since her Great Escape. She had left everyone to whom she meant little. Her so-called friends who stamped her mercilessly with their words, her parents who kept putting her down, her neighbours who judged her from top till bottom. Every day she had to go through a series of assumptions and stories about her. Apparently, she was a misfit, she was a disgrace to her society. She had no right to go on about with her life.

There were sleepless nights where she looked at herself in the mirror, and wondered what was wrong with her ? She didn’t seem to understand the baseless judgments thrown at her way. She studied the scars her father’s belt had made on her right arm. She touched it gently with her tender hands. She looked back at the mirror and saw the reflection crying. She saw the tears roll down her cheeks which was her mother’s favorite place to slap.She saw the world turn against her.

But all this was her past. With the grass around her embracing her body, she felt her soul find peace and shelter. The nature had no claims. She wasn’t judged, she wasn’t upbraided, and most of all, she wasn’t told to be someone she wasn’t.

She closed her eyes and thought about all those people who she had loved and who she thought had loved her back. She quickly pushed them out her thoughts, as they didn’t deserve to be remembered. She clenched on to her hard-earned camera, the first thing she grabbed during her Great Escape. The thought of her camera made her smile. Her camera was her best friend, amidst all the hate she got. She loved the ability of the camera to clasp a moment.She found it incredibly gratifying tracing her hands around the buttons. She loved the sound her camera made when she snaps a photo.She found it breathtaking.

It was in these little things April found her happiness in. She didn’t know what the future held for her. She knew one day she might have to face all the hate again. But she wasn’t scared this time. She grew numb to the people around her. But she knew any day given, she had her camera and the vast nature with her. She still doesn’t understand what differences the society can see in her to tag her as a ‘misfit’. Maybe, she was ‘special‘. The thought of being ‘special‘ gave her goose bumps.

She whispers to herself, ‘’ The more they hurt me, the stronger I become.’’

Dedicated to all those, who are tagged as ‘misfits’.

Misfit is the synonym for Special.

Take Care

From the not so-

Purrfectgirl

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Being 'Weird' is Good. Being 'You' is Awesome.

3 thoughts on “Misfit.

  1. Wow ! So along with your poetry, your prose also has the ability to leave the reader speechless! Loved each line of it. I don’t know how, but your writing style really connects the protagonist with your reader. I could really feel the pain April might have suffered and the ecstatic feeling she got with her camera, staring at the sky, while lying on the grass. It was just beautiful. Thank you once again for finding me and leading me here !

    1. I am really glad you were able to connect to April… I wrote the post hoping that everyone will be able to understand April. I wanted everyone to insert their own idea about ‘Why April was a misfit ?’
      Once again, thanks for your appreciation ! 🙂

      1. You did a complete justice to all of your readers by keeping April’s story a secret. That was a rare blend of emotion and abstractness which was woven by your words. 🙂

A glass of whiskey for your perspective?!

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