A Leftover From God
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No one should have to hear their own mother say she wants to put an end to her life. Just as no one should have to watch their own father put a gun into his own head and scream he wants to die. But sometimes these things happen and they happen to the same someone. Not necessarily at the same time. Which was exactly the case.
Sometimes she thinks she was just a leftover from God. God looked at her parents and decided that the only one who could ever have been born from those two, had to be her. She hasn’t quite understood this, yet. Is she stronger than most? Is she not human? What is she?
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No one should have to hear their own mother say she wants to put an end to her life. Just as no one should have to watch their own father put a gun into his own head and scream he wants to die. But sometimes these things happen and they happen to the same someone. Not necessarily at the same time. Which was exactly the case.
Sometimes she thinks she was just a leftover from God. God looked at her parents and decided that the only one who could ever have been born from those two, had to be her. She hasn’t quite understood this, yet. Is she stronger than most? Is she not human? What is she?
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And she walks the streets, trying to fit in, but knowing she can’t. She walks the streets trying to smile, trying to live like everybody else, but knowing she can’t. Everything is just a huge, unbearable lie. And others laugh and they expect her to laugh and she laughs. She is a remarkable actress. No one suspects. How could they? How can she tell them? How could they, the ones that laugh without any worries, ever understand her? And if she did tell them, they would run away from her anyway.
And she walks the streets, trying to fit in, but knowing she can’t. She walks the streets trying to smile, trying to live like everybody else, but knowing she can’t. Everything is just a huge, unbearable lie. And others laugh and they expect her to laugh and she laughs. She is a remarkable actress. No one suspects. How could they? How can she tell them? How could they, the ones that laugh without any worries, ever understand her? And if she did tell them, they would run away from her anyway.
How can she explain what one feels inside when one looks into the face of goodness and sees an angel crying and whishing for her own death? How can she explain what one has learned about the evil that lurks inside men’s hearts. And how can you live like others, when you have seen angels crying and when you have looked evil in the eyes since almost the beginning of your life?
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