The Eraser Girl

naughty lolo

hush hush... don't tell her...

And so I started to heed of this girl existence not so long ago. I don’t know her personally – and no intention whatsoever to do it. The only reason I write this note is – o well, just because she’s exist. As always, after giving the specific object a short observation and wrote it down, I can move on to another object, despite my interest in negative or positive tone — and so my writing.  Anyway, I called this girl: The Eraser girl. Because from time to time she writes something down and erase it. She’s the kind of person who always edits things that she published as projection of the tireless effort to keep everything accordingly. Preserving her “good image” I presume, but mind whatever I said about “image”, I’m a public Relations consultant, it’s too biased.

She usually writes things that are shallow and minor, things that crossed her simple mind, all of what she probably thought as “temporary feelings”, and – unfortunately – only that.  There were moment when I’m waiting for her to say something profound, just out of my wonder whether she’s capable to do so, but I put my expectation a little too high I guess. She’s indistinguishable from other girl on her age – or even younger. Well, I reckon that each being inevitably learns something out life, as for her, it’s obvious that she tries to figure out life in such modesty: the wake up, the go to work, the eat and sleep, and the romance in between. Between her lines she asked herself why she perpetually feels those elusive emotions, of jealousy, anger, happiness, pretentious. Why doubt comes and goes so swiftly. A good start I thought but then – funny — She write all down but then delete it, including all curses, annoyance and the palpable superficiality.  What’s left only the “Hahaha” and the “Hihihi” and the “O I’m happy!”

O little girl, why it’s so hard for you to make up your mind. Why are you so insecure? Maybe you feel like all eyes looking at you, when you think things start getting over-exposed. Or maybe with your adolescence cerebration you’re doing it too, just because you’re enjoying the privilege too, of being able to peep someone else’s life for so long now that it becomes you habit. Or maybe just because you scared out of your skull that someone will take back what used to be there.  But trust me no one give a damn… Well, I was giving it a damn, but not anymore, you are too much of gibberish. Not interesting anymore.

Of what I’m aware, she is looking at that “other” women with a grand curiosity. Wondering all things she sees in them and the mixture feelings the information provoked. Like a little girl that tip-toeing and peeping someone else’s front yard over the fence, whilst squeeze tight one end of a big-short rope, which the other end ties to what-used-to-be-there, so afraid that the “thing” will hop over the fence. She is overshadowed by the past, weary and haggard. And that’s how I know why she wrote things down then erased it. In her mundane life that make her feel jumbled between uncertainty and insecurity she tries to see things her way, that all things can be erase every now and then to her favor, for the sake of forgetting, and the probability people might not looking when she’s cursing or saying something really bad about other people, and so she will not judge based on that.

Seriously, to my surprise, that girl became the embodiment of my idea about what is young but trivial, always exacerbating over her pimples, skin, hair, and growing paunch, which I thought only apply to mostly high school teens. She keep write things down and erase them, never be sure whether her idea is fundamental or not. My pity is only that seems like no one there to ask about life, but that interesting threatening-someone. How happiness hang-on one very thin cord, and she’s coloring her imaginary fairy tale book to embellish her plain world. Again – of it’s all only about work, eat and sleep, and – perhaps – be merry a little over romance. The appeasing thought that one’s finally came along to save her the day, with those fallacious wisdom she adores, but does she know what that mean? Is she that gullible? I want to feel sorry, but what for?  She’s living in denial.

Something you can never erase, can’t you? But don’t worry, I never doubt you find your particular gratification in erasing thing… otherwise, why you keep doing it? Eraser girl…


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