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Survival of the Fittest
I, a human am not a stranger here. I am not seen as a threat. I can not live life as they do. They
sense this, yet the world casts me as one of them, finally I feel at home. Their bulging eyes stare
in a confused manner towards me. Who would have thought we would find aliens amongst
The truth. What is there to say? Once I looked into the eyes of the poor soul, it softened my heart. I
slowly wiped the tears off it, and wrapped myself around it. It was to no avail. My last image was the
sight of it going into the boat, and staring at me with tears. With a sigh I closed my eyes gently, and
smiled. I was your average person. I never wanted to do it, and I often thought about drowning myself
was a better option. An average girl, a typically slim and a slightly pretty woman there was nothing
wrong with me, so I thought. I possessed the quality of silence, and words would scarcely be spoken
by me. My eyes were deeply sunken into my wrinkled skin and my hair was neatly tied back showing
signs of loneliness. My untidy and scruffy clothes indicated the signal of restlessness and unhappiness.
All the while being an average person, there was something that stood out of me. Almost something so
mysterious, I myself did not know.
Sometimes, I would conjure up these insane thoughts in my head. Godforsaken thoughts such as how it
was evident that I was worth nothing more than the dirt which was left lonely in the mouth of gutters
after a long period of anguished rain. Nevertheless I should have known how much I was worth. Left
me here to ponder all by myselflessself, this is what the world had made me. I had never really
thought about what I had become. When I look into the spiteful mirror, I could see it in my old old
eyes, old because of the story behind it not with age.
Whenever, I had sufficed enough courage to face the ghastly sight of the real world I would be
encountered with disturbing downfalls of shameful situations. If I was to walk down any street of my
"home town", nothing complex and yet I would be blind not to notice the prudish people of the estate
who would watch me with rising curiosity. I did not even have to look I could feel their cruel eyes on
me, I could feel their judging fingers pointing at me poking any last dignity that I still possessed away. I
could also feel the rush of their harsh whispers blow gnarly away any secure thoughts which I had and
left me with insecure, self questioning inquisitions about everything that had seemed safe to me. They
could see the hidden truths even before I had realised it.
Then, a worried feeling came upon me, I was horribly exposed. It was just before dawn, darkness was
the only friend of mine. The green of the grass stretched beyond infinity. The wind shook the hollow
tress, which caused the frail leaves to sway dramatically. An odd gushing sound was then later heard
an almost beautiful sound of water gently running thoroughly. Thus, there stood a magnificent river,
staring politely at me. It was tempting for me to place my hands, and touch the soft and delicate water.
Consequent of this beautiful scene, it took me into a state of awe...who knew there was such a thing
as paradise on Earth?
It was extremely rare for me to experience such beauty. With being born and raised in the city, I never
came across anything of such quality. Nevertheless, I did not let the image distract me. In my mind, I
felt, the journey itself was endless but worth every second I had to pull my leg across the leaves
which had fallen into the ground. I was far from the morbid place of my past now, I hade to keep
telling myself that. It was either me rotting in that house, or finding the place said to be called paradise.
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Darkness was soon spreading across so I quickly made myself move. I could almost feel the fantasy
world. From the horrors of my past, I now found myself in such beauty of nature.
Thought to be another world. Different to mine. Industrialised if you may, surrounded by the lush
evergreen sky scrapers lowering over their brazen world. I would watch astonished. As I sat on the
ice cold windowsill hands grasping onto the glass, nose pressed tightly against it I oozed at the
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Selina Khatun…read more