She woke up this morning and glued her edges. It was a big world for a little fragile thing like her. She yawned and folded her sheets, not really ready to embrace the breath of the morning. This will be a long day. She has to keep her poise and show everyone her beauty. No one should notice. No one will understand. She has to play her role. She should not break apart in front of everyone. Heartbreak check: rapid.
She threw a glance outside her window and looked twice in disbelief. It was the first day of the changed season. The sky was both yellow and blue and pink clouds invite her to fly and drink euphoria. She smiled. She smiled wider. It was so ironic to see a peaceful sky above a chaotic world.She wondered how many other souls are wearing the same mask as hers: the mask of strength and bliss covering all the opposites in her pretty face. She glided towards the nearest leaf, the drizzle of the night still embedded on the smooth green face of the plant. She moved her eyes towards the sparkling water on the leaf and she saw herself: her elegance, her fragility, the excess pain in her eyes. She got her make-up from her drawer and started painting herself: pink for her womanhood, yellow for the lightness of her environment, orange for all her undying hopes, and black for her real feelings. She has to be really careful for she was only glued. She walked towards her door at the edge of the tree and kissed her home goodbye, for she is not sure if this is where she’ll head later. She said a short prayer then jumped. At last, she seems ready to go outside and continue living.
She stopped by to Sunflower for her breakfast. She ordered some Nectar and drank it as coffee. It was so sweet and energizing, simply enough to help her get through the day. Then she went to the park: the happiest place that she knows. She heard the intoxicating laughter of the playing children, the vows of the lovers around and the buzzing of the bees. But he was not there, as she expected. Every eyes turn to see her, eyes which cannot see through her pain. The people caught their cameras and started focusing on her. She is a true beauty. She danced and made her photos extraordinary. She was so pretty that she was able to put smiles in the faces of all the people who saw her. She moved with so much grace, never really minding the falling yellow leaves. She sung a lullaby. No one noticed her singing. No one actually heard it. It was like a melody that no one can hear but affects the mood of everybody. She smiled. She laughed. It was so ironic that she can easily make everyone happy except herself. The show is almost done.
Cho Chang finished her seventh song with a little tear in her left eye. Those were the songs of her whole life: her hopes, her fears, her only love, and her bitterness. No. The tear will not flow. It will just wash away her colors. It will ruin the show. It will vaporize the glue that’s keeping her whole. No. the tear will not flow. She felt a strong lump in her throat. No. She is strong. She can fight her tears. She began flying to another happy place then a little child pointed at her and said, “Look, mom! A crying butterfly in autumn!”. “No honey. Butterflies never cry,” the mother answered. And Cho Chang flew and flew and flew.