Love. I always sought it, yearned for it. But perhaps it wasn't meant to be. When I finally found it, it mirrored the pain I had always inflicted. The mirror reflecting my own past actions, my desire to be loved and not love,a cruel twist of fate.
Past.
Zora: The gilded cage, they called it. A life of privilege, they envied. A home, yes, but it echoed with the absence of laughter, a family bound by duty, not love. My reflection, a stranger in the mirror, haunted by a hollow smile. School hailed me a prodigy, sports crowned me champion, yet the applause was a distant symphony, each note a jarring reminder of the emptiness within. I was living someone else's dream, a meticulously crafted facade, while my own soul withered, a forgotten seed in the arid desert of expectation. And then, the home transformed into a house, my spirit a flickering candle, gasping for air in the suffocating weight of perfection. Yet I couldn't be the one.
I thrived for love, I thrived for attachment, I thrived whatever I never had, I wanted a flower that would have no sooner withered but just for a moment I wanted to feel.
Jasper: The irony of longing for popularity. I've always been the giver, never the recipient of love. Forever a 'maybe,' never the 'chosen one.' I crave it, yet the emptiness it promises chills me to the bone.
Wren: Why would you say that you fool! Don't you have me. Am I really nothing. I am tired of your words!
Jasper: Then why don't you leave, perhaps you would get a better partner to hang out with, I won't mind being the banyan tree but your desire to bloom shouldn't limit you to me.
Wren: That's why. That's why I always stay you always blackmail me with your words, and a banyan tree would stay a flower won't.
Jasper: O Wren, what are you talking about I never said like that, bruh!