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"When we used to be poor.” (1 Viewer)

  • Thread starter rana_thesparklingstar
  • Start date


She was sitting in front of her tent. The one with the frozen ropes due to the rain and sever cold.

“When we used to be poor, we lived in a house.” That is what the ninety years old lady told me wearing that concrete mask that if it was meant to frighten me then it worked.

I left her and moved on my way to the magazine where I work. Or rather where I used to work. For the magazine had given her case less attention than it needed. So, I decided to quite inorder to give it and similar cases the time they deserved.

I have had this indescribable sheer feeling of emptiness ever since I met this lady. Everything became gray to my eyes.

When I talk to her she makes me feel like a small child. I used to go home carrying that feeling of self-satisfaction everyday. That was before I had met her. Now I go home accompanied by that killer feeling of emptiness that fills my soul till it almost vomits it.

“When we used to be poor, we had some bread to eat.” She said it as if I was the one who took away her bread. She said it in a way that made me believe that I did.

I go home. Look around. Thank the lord that I am still privileged with poverty. I laugh cynically at my realization of life’s truth, the very core of its truth.

My fiancé dropped by first thing in the morning. Found me still sitting on the couch where he left me last night with piles of scattered torn papers all around. The truth slipped from between my fingers so I couldn’t write it down. I laughed at his naivety, his adorable naivety, the one of those who does not know a thing. He too has his stupid fake mask on. He thinks that would hide the truth from me. Poor thing! He can’t understand that he can’t hide the emptiness he carries underneath. I can see it as vividly as I can see a frog on the swamp’s surface.

He can’t fool me. I prefer the concrete mask that the ninety years old lady wears. I wish he would put on a similar one. I laughed out and the poor man got so angry.

I saw the engagement ring being thrown on the floor and stepped at. I know what it went through, for I was in its position being stepped at thousands of times everyday. He went his own way. “When is he going to wake up from his colored fantasy to realize the grayness of all?” I was wondering.

“When we used to be poor, I had children running all around.” The cruelty of the idea tore me up like a dagger that went through my skull. I looked up at the black sky but found no shelter. I looked down underneath her feet; there was a puddle of water, but no reflection of her. I didn’t bother to try to find one of me. Because I knew the truth, the very core of the truth.

Seeking warmth, I ran to my mother for coldness has wrapped me up like a shroud. I found the door closed. I found that the fence has gone up few more meters. I found no answer when I knocked and knocked on the door. I tried to open it but the big dog appeared in front of me preventing my voice to reach my mother. My mother still has the privilege of being poor, of having children to run around her. But she put a big dog to keep them away.

Every time I think I have succeeded in getting away from the old lady I find my feet taking me to her for another shot of the truth. That concrete mask breaks my confidence with its solidity. I know that underneath the mask she id laughing at me being lost. Knowing she caused it.
“When we used to be poor, we………” I never heard what she said. For I walked out on her, in an attempt to break free from the trap while I am still privileged with poverty.

But I knew that my feet would lead me straight back to her gain.

after reading this i hope you readers an realte to what kind of poverty i am addressing here... i have seen peolpe with my own eyes that need over 1,000$ to become poor for they can't even afford a bathroom inside their houses. just forget about all what you have seen through your luxiurious lives and see it with fresh pair of eyes.