Over the Edge by Nikhil Sharda

She sits alone in her self-created devastation. Once again life has lost its point for her and she is on the verge of giving up. Unattainable dreams dance in front of her bewildered gaze. She questions over and over again what is the point to all this? Why even bother? Of course her faith always pushes her to persevere.

She has always been very religious. Not in the common way of going to church every Sunday, but alone in her room she prays often and always relies on the direction god has pushed her in by fate. She gazes out her 23rd floor window to the city streets below. Cars buzz on by. People stream by like cattle being driven to the slaughterhouse. That’s how she sees them. They always follow the known path, living senseless lives without feeling or purpose besides monetary gain that will only last them for this lifetime. She pities them and at the same time looks down upon them ruthlessly. She looks down at her home made clothes and hugs them closely to her body. She refuses to wear anything name brand because she will not have her life controlled by society’s rules. She begins to pace. Back and forth along the narrow studio room which is all her own. The walls are barren and an ugly shade of yellow covers their surface. She thinks to herself I need to paint them, maybe I will make them black. Then again no, that reminds her too much of her home. Well, it was never her home really. She pulls out a small framed picture from her desk, which is one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. It is of her father and mother. They stand next to each other smiling. It causes her to reminisce of the time when they lived together.

She exits her small black painted room and sits down at the table for dinner with her prim and proper parents. Her father is dressed smartly in an expensive suit and red silk tie.