I knew a girl once. She was older to me and I adored her, the way she’d authoritatively declare the game we’d play, her choice of bright flaring skirts, her creative endeavors with broken shells and colorful satin ribbons collected. Her eyes danced when she spoke, animated with the notion of big plans and the hope of creating something new. Daring and bold, sassy and crazy; that’s what she was. I wanted to be like her, a mad thing living with no rules.

She grew up. We don’t talk much anymore. She chose other things to fuss over, things I disagreed with. Society and status prevail over love to her. Only one thing matters to her- money. I stand with disbelief and look at her face that bears a smile; the warmth replaced with a hardness that’s been etched in there delicately with time. She is scared, so scared that greed overcomes compassion.

I judge her, but there is a fear within me, nestled somewhere in my mind.

Will I always be strong enough to do the right thing? Or will I fade into darkness?

 

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