Melany stared blankly at her half-completed work.
Even though she knew better than anyone that it wasn't absolutely awe-inspiring, she still can't bring herself to discard it.
She put her heart and soul into all of her work, which was deemed "okayish" by others.
She had tried to ameliorate them to match their standards.
To be acknowledged by her seniors. To be able to receive a genuine delightful compliment from someone, without them having to plaster on fake grins and say, "It's not bad", as if it was a mindful comment made so as to not puncture a little child's bubble of hope.
She tried to suppress the incoming verge of tears again by shoving in her worn-out earphones into her ears.
She told herself that she was not allowed to feel any sadness whatsoever since many others have to overcome harsher elements compared to her.
That she should be grateful for living under these circumstances.
And she was.
The only problem was herself who everyone else saw as a miserable failure.
In spite of it all, she kept going while trying to ignore the overwhelming sense of agony from having not accomplished something notetable.
"Hard work will not disappoint you", she recalled the memory of the resolute voice of her tutor filling her ears.
She also recalled assuring herself with a rather unstable yet profound voice, having rushed into the toilet cubicle.
"I know I can succeed. It's just a matter of time before I do. Everyone else is already belittling my seemingly unreachable dream so I, out of all people, should not let go of it."
Yet now, her mind inevitably started to reconsider the past choices she had made.
"Where did it all go downhill?" She was just a young teenager who discovered her passion in the nick of time, before others started to nag at her to search for some job at some company after graduating. She thought that she had it all planned out, that everything would be resolved with hard work because she had a clear goal to fight for.
Four years have passed and she has not budged an inch from where she started. The only income was the money she earned while working part-time at a coffee job nearby her dingy flat.
**
Melany woke up in the pile of her soaking wet sheets of paper.
"..So I have lost against my tears again, huh?"
She checked the clock unconsciously and was hit by the reality that she was late. Even though she knew she had to hurry up, her movements were slow and sloppy. She was awfully worn out from feeling, well, worn out every day.
She proceeded with her work until the manager signaled for the employees' first break of the day, as usual. The break soon ended.
She carried a tray towards a customer, still in a daze. She placed the lemonade a little too quickly, in an attempt to scurry away. It wobbled.
Once, twice... splash.
"My deepest apologies, sir." She wiped the tabletop in a hurry, and grasped the hilt of the broom and dustpan, sweeping away her mistake.
She gave another apologetic bow towards the customer, but only to make another misstep.
She fumbled with her fingers and pinched herself on her wrist, hard. Glued to the spot after realising she did it brazenly for a fleeting second, she winced inwardly and turned her heel.
"When did it start?" a voice resounded out, causing her to stop in her tracks.
"Pardon me, sir?" she asked.
"You have to really sit and think about it, so that you can cope with it in the right way, and that you will feel better."
"Um… sorry, may I ask for context?" Melany asked.
"Do you mind?"
The customer gestured towards the seat in front of him.
"I will serve another drink as compensation for my mishap sir. My shift break has just ended, and I couldn't afford a conversation right now, I'm sorry." She said with a hint of strained professionalism.
"Don't worry about my order. And no offense meant, but… the café isn't exactly buzzing with people right now."
"Oh I…"
What precisely was meant by them to have a conversation?
No one showed any concern for her before since she moved, especially more so during work. Why did this person suddenly make an appearance and inquire about such things?
In reality, she had an idea of what he was asking about.
Her ever-growing self-hate, nestling inside her, threatening to act up and pounce every minute.
But she just had to ask, to feign ignorance, for she couldn't be sure that person really cared.
Or that he was just some psychiatrist-in-training viewing her as another just another client, wanting her to take the bait for when he opens his own real center. Or some weird delirious person experimenting?
You'd never know.
He sensed the person before him obviously overthinking, and closed the book he was holding shut and placed it on the table.
"Rest assured, I am not some weird person with hidden motives behind my actions. I am not qualified enough to become a psychologist or psychiatrist either, if you were wondering, and was hesitant for that reason. I am genuinely concerned, since I have been battling the conflicts within myself. But alas, they still happen, yes, but you will get more peace with yourself after learning how to control it."
Melany found herself unconsciously drawn to the words that were free of strained concern, and reached for the chair.
Call her pathetic and gullible, but she was also desperate for someone like him for a while.
He didn't show any signs of mockery or arrogance when he saw her do so at all. On the contrary, he gave out a relieved sigh and displayed a tiny grin.
"Just a heads up... I really do not know how to express myself. So if I stutter or ponder too long on a question.. please excuse me." Melany said while biting her lip out of habit.
Brain fuzzy with thoughts, a poem once written by her floated into her stream of consciousness.
"Exhaling over and over again,
Trying to expel the emotions,
In a scribbled mess,
Inhabiting my mind and heart,
Twisted, eventual, but steady,
Feeding on my despair and loathing.
The aim of the loathing unclear,
Mixed and blending into,
The sea of philosophy,
Of myself and the world.
The bitterness that once stemmed from guilt, exaggeration and childishness,
Had begun to infiltrate the roots of my beliefs,
Poisoning my once pure soul,
That excavated the good in the world.
Admiration turned into envy,
Envy spindled into jealousy,
Jealously swindled my mind,
To turn to hatred as means of coping,
With my own mediocrity,
Not knowing it was a blessing,
For me to uncover possibilities,
And conquer a hurdle, a hill, a mountain,
One after another.
Yet I turned to darkness,
In spite of encouragement and vibrancy that is all around me,
Laid bare in front of my eyes.
Yet the light and hope was shunned.
After coming up with the conclusion,
That they are sources of escape.
Shunned away,
Insecurities snowballed into restlessness.
Restlessness,
Towards my hesitation,
My awkwardness,
My incompetency,
My shortcomings after rising by inches,
The way I talk,
The way I'm not eloquent,
The way I have nothing to talk about,
The way I can't connect with others.
The way I sit, stand,
The way I hunch my back,
As a result of the dissatisfaction towards myself,
As consequence of the absence of faith for myself,
As circumstance of not being my own supporter.
Not allowing myself to breathe easily
Because others have struggled and suffocated,
But survived.
Thus, so shall I.
Unbeknownst to myself,
It grew,
From niggling thoughts
To opinions, beliefs,
For me to be pressured to have pressure,
For me to think that I have to be stressed,
To have a heavy burden on me at all times.
Yet in turn,
They became shackles that held me back from improvement.
They dulled my curiosity,
Spinning it into dread,
Blocking my vision to small milestones,
And gave foresight of a long, arduous journey,
That is near-impossible to achieve. "