Experience other minds and get indulged

She didn’t have any tears in her eyes, but she was crying; from inside. It didn’t feel good. Her father’s grave was in front of her, the grave of the only one she had in her childhood. Now she was 21, and she had lost it. She had lost her source of strength, she had lost all her nice moments with him, plus all her bad moments. The only thing remained now was her memories. She remembered those days when she was 6, a chubby cute girl with blond hair; her father, on the contrary, a plump man with his back a little bent down, his face wrinkled and dirty, his eyes full of grief and red lines, his hair white, his fat hands half-tucked in his pockets, and she was holding his wrist like she was falling down from somewhere, and his wrist was holding her up. They crossed a street and went to a shop, her father had a few coins, he bought her a notebook with colorful drawings on its covers, and they left, but later she insisted that she didn’t like it, and they have to go back to change it. His fa...

The room’s dim light’s source was a torch hanged up on the wall on her right, which cast a dark shadow on her other side, which made every normal face enchanting; nevertheless, her face was already enchanting. She exhaled the room’s dense air in, caressed her dress one more time, and finally looked up at the cheval glass which she was standing right in front of. Everything about her was almost perfect -the white loose dress, the makeup on her face, and the perfume- which was a huge contrast with the things around her: the rough walls, the untidy bed and chairs next to her, the wooden worn out door which opened to nowhere but bare lands. But it was the only place she had that hadn’t abandoned her, and she had to be happy about it. “You are the one who never let me down,” she said while reading her own eyes in the mirror. “You are the one who knew all my faults, and still remained without expectations.” Her left eye was lucent in the dark, a result of the flame reflect...

I am turning into the wrath of being in a lifetime misery; I am not the one who fails, I am the failure itself; I am nothing, no one, and nonsense. It has been years and years of me wandering around here, without any desire, and without any purpose. Despite the fact that I hate it here, I don’t want to get out of it; I am afraid of having feelings again, I am afraid of putting out myself, afraid of being broken, stolen, and finally devastated. I am happy enough without them. My home is a wooden house with a large window and a small porch. Around it is nothing but green hills and mountains, covered up with a clear sky and the sun among clouds, or stars around the moon. No one comes here, but only if they want to venture to the path of gaining a special power, merely by calling their strength. I have no strength, nor I have the desire to have one. I decided to live here just because I make misery wherever I go, I have an aura of making everything dull, and everyone bored. Maybe this is...