She knew.
She knew her situation was different. She knew she wouldn’t have the same things the others normally have; she knew she wouldn’t experience those that other people her age would experience.
It wasn’t easy.
It was unpleasant.
Trying to get by each day, ignoring the glaring truth, was not a walk at the park. It was a walk at night, in a secluded narrow street, where some thief or murderer might just jump at you any moment.
And just like any truth that’s been ignored for a long time, it eventually just had to stare at her right in the face as if to say, “ACKNOWLEDGE ME.”
She wept.
How had she sinned from her previous life-if it even existed-for her to deserve a life like this?
But it was her truth-her reality. There’s no other way but to accept...
...and to dislike everything that she can never put in the empty canvas of her fruitless life.
Somehow, it worked! Desiring nothing unattainable made things easier for her. She learned to accept that this would be her life: in complete independence, without happiness of any sort, devoid of ambition or goal.
At the same time, however, having nothing to look forward to, nothing to yearn for, nothing to keep and nothing to lose, she wondered...
“Am I still living?”
But such was her life. If she had chosen to live and feel everything and desire for good things in life, she would have miserably failed and would be broken by perpetual dismay.
This much was alright. She’d rather feel nothing if all that’s left is pain.