The girl with the clock tattoo in the vanguard

                             Again there it was that incessant nagging and tugging inside her head. She thought she can drown out those voices in her head by blaring punk rock in her ears, which did work for a while but her mind got used to it. It started ignoring the lead vocalist’s voice spewing out poetry like it was a dead man’s words! instead of the music she heard voices of different people shouting “failure!”,”loser!”,”fat”, ”worthless”, ”you think someone will fall in love with you?”  “Hate your guts”, “ugly”, “rebel”. The noise kept on amplifying until it defied all laws of physics even astronomy and filled every possible space around her. It was unbearable.

                           She thought if she could break the mirror open this image would fade and she would discover something beyond that plain ugly face and emotionless eyes but she did not succeed! A bloodied fist earned her three therapy sessions and constant vigilance from her parents. She heard people around repeatedly mention “open your heart” till they have exhausted that phrase from their reservoir! They would chant it like they know a thing about the heart. She told them “I don’t believe in the heart” they sighed giving up “maybe you are heartless” they said and left.

                            The girl in dark blue shirt and torn up jeans with a reluctant expression knew more about the heart than any of those old geysers! A heart is only worth it if is free to follow what makes it dance! If she let her heart lose, she knew it would be trouble, she knew it would return torn down to shreds. So she hid it in her darkest corner and sealed it never to be opened again. Like runes that will protect her seal, she inked herself. he first tattoo was an antique clock, she told herself “everything lasted only for a while” she screamed at her parents “quit your whining it’s just a tat” when they asked why their little had inked herself. She stayed up the whole night crying tearless, noiseless into her pillow for hurting the only two souls which cared. But she was heartless, wasn’t she?  She went on with drawing runes on her; she thought the sixth one sealed it forever.

                              It sealed her heart tight but the mind kept in ragging! Those names she was called, those sneers she pretended to ignored and those sweet words of pity which actually meant “sorry for being such a loser you ugly piece of junk pile” she learned to live with these voices screaming inside. She learned to laugh at herself. Her mind would blame every possible calamity on her inability to hold sanity! No, there is no fairy god mother; there is never a happy ending. We fight our demons till the day we decide to give up and surrender!

                              The girl in a peach shirt and a white jean adorned with tattoos, faking a smile and sporting a red streak in her hair with rock music screaming ”if I told what I was would you turn your back on me?” fought her demons standing in the vanguard.

                              She thought as she stepped into her new classroom during her freshmen year in college, a living example of vivacious purgatory, “it is not in never having demons, it is in fighting them. I’m inclusive of my demons I’m darkness and the light! I’m those insults that were thrown at me I’m the person who proved it doesn’t matter I will find a million reason s to stop and break but then I eye my antique clock which stands still on my arm, for a second all the battles feel like a step towards winning the war. Yes, the hurt was real, they did break my insides and scar my existence but I’m beyond my scars, I’m everything the world is afraid to hold and nothing like what you see in your picture books. I’m the words that will burn your mind when you perceive it. I’m the fall through infinity!”  She smiled and took her position in the vanguard another battle, another scar!