Her gaze was as unique as her voice, but it was filled with anger and sorrow. In the eyes of those she loved, she had become invisible. What a strange feeling it was to be rejected. She'd thought she'd left a mark big enough not to be forgotten, but she'd been wrong.
She may have appeared to be the heroine of the story, but in reality she was the villain. Time seemed to fly by until she realized this harsh truth. The line between hero and villain could be extremely thin. This discovery had been devastating. In her mind, she was a hero, a victim. Not the villain. Her heart had turned to nothingness when that line had been crossed.
Sitting on a bench, suspended in the night, lost in thought, she was surprised and startled by a crunching sound on the rain-soaked tarmac. She looked up at the starless sky. Only darkness and lightning were present.
The night brought her nothing but nightmares and anguish. She preferred the sun, the warmth, the birds, the flowers. She often went to the edge of a nearby forest to watch the butterflies delicately gathering their flowers. She liked to think of them as her totems, her protectors, so she bought a necklace bearing their image. She wished she could fly away like them, persuaded that life would be better elsewhere, far from everything, far from her friends who had rejected her, far from her family who had not accepted her.
She had great ambitions, she wanted to be the one to change the world, to bring human beings together. But she was quickly disillusioned when she was cast aside without explanation, without words, without a glance. She had looked for answers and found them. She wasn't the heroine of the story, but the villain.
She slowly came to her senses. This was what it meant to be an adult, to assume responsibility. She wouldn't be better off without them, but they would be better off without her. She closed her eyes and felt the raindrops sliding gently down her face. Perhaps she was about to make a mistake, but it would be her own mistake.
She raised her hands to her neck and unclasped her necklace. The butterfly seemed to glow slightly as she moved away from the bench where she had placed it. Saying goodbye was always difficult. Disappearing into the night was the worst.
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