Inked in water?

The old memories resurface as you rummage through the old photos that you find stashed away in the old boxes. As though releasing a trapped genie from the proverbial Arabian lamp, the memories, all good and evil, swish their way out into your consciousness. Like falling dry leaves from a mango tree during a windy tropical storm, the shrivelled, long-forgotten thoughts of yesteryears come spiralling down, alive and so vivid.

Gazing the innocent face minus the scars of her battled life, you remember the child you once knew. Eager to confront the world and fight a good fight to win her wars, she embraced life with so much vigour. Albeit the miseries and the difficulties that thrashed her down, she stood her ground. She turned her under-achievement into stepping stones to reach higher grounds. She succeeded in her own baby steps, gradually.

You thought she would make it. And that she was almost there! You blink, and pop went the bubble! The innocent child had now metamorphosed into a reckless wreck. She had built a wall and found her comfort zone in her cocoon than to fight the world. She had become tired. She had thrown in the towel after holding on her own for so long. Well-meaning advice from well-intended relatives have just gone down the drain. Like a rabid dog, every stimulus provokes an exaggerated response with her shields up to face the barrage.