THE KNOT

When I first tied a knot, it was messy but strong.
A knot holds memories, smooth and beautiful. Holding its end makes me go with the flow.
I tied knots in my teenage years, beautiful were they. Some pink, some blue they all were best in appearance. Curvy and cute, they lock my fantasies, my barbies, my ponies and my favourite stars.  

My desires and magical world. Being the princess of my world my knots were my lively friends.
A pinkish knot of our friendship, my best friend. A white knot of my prince charming. A girly knot of my princess's stuff. 
Then I unfold a knot when I felt lonely and I guess I had many knots. Then I unfold a knot of our friendship. Then the wet white knot. When my barbies were thrown my girly knot unfolded. And I realised I've no knots left.

I guess I could tie many more. And then I was able to realise the faded words, the veiled face and hollow relations. All the perfect knots were not so perfect, I realised.

Broken was I, when I decided to tie another knot.

This time it wasn't beautiful, curvy and girly. It was a knot that I tied with me. A strong and real knot, a knot that I tied to never unfold.
Because this time was different, this time it was me. The knot of my happiness, the knot of my identity. Many knots I tied, it was actually the one, tied me.