The woman
walks with her face down, avoiding the glare of the morning sun. Cars speed
past her on one side and pedestrians overtake on the other - all with the same
purpose as her... to get to work. But she does not see them, pretends they are
not there, that she is not there.
Instead she imagines herself
elsewhere; a different country, time, even galaxy, she pretends that she isn't
walking the same route alone, but she is walking somewhere different, more
interesting with a better destination whilst surrounded by close friends... she
never wanted to be yet one more face that easily blended into the grey
normality of the flock and as a child and a teenager she desperately rebelled
against it until eventually the enemy took over, pounded their beliefs into her
about not raising eyebrows, earning money, having a job... just being normal.
And so she succumbed, only talking of the achievable dreams that are shared by
many, her slightly romanticised views of love the only step outside the line
that's allowed - for there are others who still wear those tinted glasses and
she refuses to remove them for anyone.
Her
dreams of a different existence pound wildly on the lid of the box in which
they are stored - only allowed out to play when she is certain she is alone,
unjudged or at least unnoticed by others... who, as far as she is concerned,
are doing exactly the same thing as her... for she cannot bear the thought of
being the only one who still holds on to these dreams but who, everyday,
has to be faced with the reality that she is not the exception to the rule, if
anything she is there to prove it.
Reality
and normal life must take precedence over the unachievable dream. Childlike
wishes and thoughts for a brighter future must be put away eventually in order
for a person to exist in society "without raising eyebrows".
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