She was different, very strange—almost as if the right soul had been placed in the wrong body. She loved everything a girl was not supposed to love—or perhaps it was only the chains of society making it seem so. She wasn't wrong; she was simply unpredictable. She wanted to break free from society's shackles, to leave everyone behind and move ahead. It was not her fault. She was born a wild bird, made only to follow her own will. She studied rules only to break them. She had her own perspective on everything.
I speak of a colleague of mine—or perhaps a friend, though I am not sure. I don't know what she thought of me either, for I too am confused. She never made friends, nor did she let anyone know too much about her. She was multi-talented, yet I never saw her laugh heartily. She often said she was "weird," but I never saw her do anything truly strange. She worked hard, but she stressed too much. Still, she was good—so very good.
Her words carried depth. She used to say the world is like a film, and the Writer, Director, and Producer is God Himself. Not every movie needs a happy ending. She disliked happy endings, because to her, even sweetness—if too much—can make the throat ache. It seemed she had lost much, though I never knew if it was true or only an illusion.
She once told me, "I never told anyone the whole truth about myself. I always change the details, mix in a few lies. Every time, the story is different."
she always changed details, mixed lies into her stories. Every time she told a story about herself, it was different.
When I asked her why she did such strange things, she smiled and said, "Because I don't trust people. One day, four people will sit together and talk about me. Each will tell a different version of my story, and they will be confused. They will draw their own conclusions, ones that will never truly satisfy them. And then, they will never ask me again."
I told her, "But people will think you're a liar."She replied, "I don't care. Even if they believe I am a murderer and kill me for it—I will not care."
Hearing this, I would always fall silent.
She was like the one figure in a vast crowd dressed all in black—while she alone wore white, with wings upon her back. Yet, to fit in, she slowly began to strip off her wings, painting her white garment black. She was losing herself—and I was watching her lose herself.
She worked with us for six months. She didn't talk much, though whenever she did, she spoke gently. Yet I knew her temper simmered beneath the surface. She tried to hide it, but it always revealed itself in glimpses. After half a year, she suddenly resigned—just when we had grown used to a new colleague.
I still remember, once she said: "People come and go. What remains are only their memories. I just wish to live on in people's memories—but that is a foolish wish." She had laughed at her own words.
She no longer works here, but perhaps because of that wish—or for some other reason I cannot name—she has remained in my thoughts. All I know is: she was different. And it was in her difference that her beauty lay. But society, with its chains, never let her remain who she truly was. She tore away her own wings, painted her white dress black, yet even then people did not accept her. For how long can anyone survive wearing a mask?
She admired those who lived as they wished. She loved independence, unconventionality, friendship, happiness. But she never truly achieved them, because no one accepted her different personality. The so-called ethics of society did not let her breathe. Family and society tied her down with their useless rules and cultural norms. And so the wild bird within her stopped living from the heart.
And so, I ask you all: when a person is born, is it written on their forehead that they must live by society's rules? Is it not unbearably painful to change yourself just to fit in? She did not speak much, perhaps because she feared rejection. But must people like her live suffocated like this? Must they cut off their own wings?
If so, then I want every child born in this society to know: you can live. Even if you are different, you can still live happily. Whether people accept you or not, if you find happiness within yourself, you can live as you please.
The End