her story

An old friend of mine IM'ed me the other day and she asked me to read a short story she wrote in her blog. She said that it was written when she was feeling sad, meanwhile, at the same time, unexpectedly, strangely enough, she asked me if it was funny.
Well, she asked me what I thought about it. I thought it is interesting and thoughtful. For those who are interested, the story goes like this:

Woman

Have you ever felt a man you love has abused you in a lot of ways?

The way you think, the way you talk, what you wear, the decisions that you make and wherever you want to go?

The ugliest woman is a woman who doesn't have confidence in herself. The one who is so vulnerable to the things surround her. Who gets an inch to jealousy and insecurity when a man tells her about how she looks and what he likes.

A woman like her, lives in a small world of her own far away from everyone else. Because, she doesn't really know if she can handle every judgments and ideas of her life. To her, everything is just a lie. Everyday becomes hundred years to go.

A man should come to woman's life and make her feel beautiful. However, how much does a man need to do to build or create a woman's fairytale?

A man, is selected among all other stars in the sky. When he came down to the earth hundreds of thousand years ago he was nothing but a man who got his mind straight to his point.

Whereas, woman was selected among all other fishes in the sea, and she was then called the mermaid. The sea was too cold thousand years ago and the mermaid decided to swim to the land for a new life.

One day, the man saw the mermaid and fell in love at first sight.

They had a baby.

Mermaid's scales came off from her body after 50 years and they lived another 2,000 Naked Years.

Civilisation started soon after and clothes were made to men n women.

They were wearing Tiger branded dresses for hundreds of years until Leopard skins became popular.

Mermaid realised, Man has lost a slight interest of her. She cried everynight hoping Man would fall in love with her again. Everyday, she looked at herself into the river and asked what was wrong with her?

Mermaid felt sad and became very sick.

They got older and older and older. And Mermaid was still a very distraught woman.

Before Mermaid breathe her last breath, she asked Man why had he lost interest in her.

Man answered, "because you looked a lot better when you were naked".

Then she died.

(Created, copyrighted and sole property of by Sara the Aristocratic Adventurer, in 2008. I'm merely hosting this webpage.)


Comments:

First of all, this story is not actually funny. I find it to be quite a serious one. If I was to point one funny bit, it would be when people switched from "tiger brand to leopard skins". ok, Im not here to analyze this story because that's so dumb and I did that so many times in goddamn literature class. So, to hell with that. I'm here to comment.
I think this one's quite good actually. I can actually feel the thoughts that go through the whole writing. There are a couple of faults here and there, but nothing to be fussed about. One thing, there's sadness to this story. i don't know what she meant by funny. The ending which is:

"because you looked a lot better when you were naked".

...reminds me of, well, me. And us. Everyone else too. Our youth is the most exciting part of our lives. The best. We were 'naked'. Exposed. Pure. We are who we are. We were learning. We discover things, and ultimately, we discover ourselves. It reminds me the joy I have for writing. I wrote quite a lot back then. I didn't write about fiction. Not about world issues. Not about national concerns. Neither on oil prices. Politics? Thats far out.

I always wrote about the things I see around me. Narrative in first person perspective. I scrutinize them. Like, " Who's that girl sitting in the teacher's desk?" "What colour is she wearing?" "What's she doing?" "Who is she and what's she really like?" "Who's that guy?" "What time is it?" "what am i Supposed to do?" "What's that noise?" Why am I stupid?" etc.
Well, I wouldn't actually say that my writing was top class. My language was not that good. It was fragmented, choppy and sometimes out of syntax and redundant.

What matters is: I captured the moment.

Not with pictures, medals, landmarks or awards. But with words. Words that will be re-written (or probably not) and re-read. Those words which are vivid to those who were there. Writing things the moment it happened can be a lot better than writing epic poetry. It is a memory for one to keep.

"Civilisation started soon after and clothes were made to men n women.

They were wearing Tiger branded dresses for hundreds of years until Leopard skins became popular".

This part reminds me how much people change over time. Clothes are like the new 'us' that we gradually develop/adopt in the process of growing up. It is meant to hide those things that make us 'naked', like a mask. And then, some are meant to make us strong. Some are made to attract. And some are meant to be fake. We become dependent to these 'clothes' that we forget, and ultimately, abandon who we really are. But there's no one to blame on that. We constantly change, so much that it is hard to keep track of it all. And we forget.
Like how Tiger brands are replaced by Leopard skins.

Want to know what's the saddest part? She believes that I could write nice stories.

I couldn't. At least, I couldn't write one with the way I am now. I don't even remember when's the last time I wrote something good. Most importantly, I don't even remember since when did I start writing pieces of crap. I forgot my dreams. Yes, I did dreamt about being an engineer but that was because of expectations. I dreamt of being a writer, writing what matters to me.

"Please write from your heart this time"

Heart, huh? Now where did I put the damned thing?

Oh, boy.

This is gonna take a while.....