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Out Of the Box

It felt like a machine manufacturing company, everything in sync; the sounds, the knobs, the screws, everything. My life felt no more special. When I was a child, I was often amazed by the art of mosaic and believed that when I grow old, I hope my life would look like it, broken pieces joining together that form a distinct yet bigger picture. But then why did it look so similar? Why did I feel bad? Why did it look black? In the drive to be accepted and liked by everyone, I lost myself. I was now a mere girl who would do anything that people around said or asked to be. I wore the clothes that people liked, acted like someone else and liked the things that I once found cringing for what? To be accepted. But there came a time when I couldn't fit the mould of the hypothetical box of being 'Perfect'. How should I act, sit, walk, dress or what career should I pursue; I couldn't fit in like every other person next to me did. But how could I? Wasn't I a human before anyone? Wasn't I supposed to be as unique as my flaws and my features? So there I was, having mustered up enough courage and breaking the irrelevant boundaries that were invisible. I started to live, in colour, knowing that everyday is a new day with new experiences, some good, some bad. What keeps me going is the end picture of it, the Mosaic, chaotically abstract, beautiful, irregular but bright, exquisite and colourful.

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Vidhi kulshrestha
Vidhi kulshrestha
Sep 06, 2022

This is just too simple to think about and usually happens to people including me But dhwani you wrote it "out of the box".


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