There hadn't been much else but a memory that had taken my goals, dreams, and life—that didn't even start. Nothing like it would have happened if rash and reckless judgments had not been taken in the midst of protests and melancholy pleas; shrill cries at midnight and clutches of the male who looks at every woman in his neighborhood.
It wasn't a coincidence, nor was it something the heavens would accomplish without human awareness. What occurred took my senses and left my spirit barren of positive options that may have given my life meaning.
I go by the name Stella, whose miseries are not long since gone, and whose hands were never sanctified and recognized in churches, laws, and society. Scratches and moles that like dried meteors, as well as scars between her breasts, expose tragedy and servitude.
My demeanor isn't that of a stunning supermodel wearing Prada gloves, or a dream villain with purple skin and fancy clothes. My hair is combed down to the sides of my jawline, giving it the appearance of a Greek Historian's beard. My body is pretty robust, yet my curves are perfect, and heels are my go-to-weapon.
Growing up, the culture and folks I've known have been gussied up as Protestants, replete with signs and torches. Stella, I never cried a single drop of tears in this sort of civilization and circumstances. Instead of being gentle with blatant falsehoods, I was scratched out of a horrific and traumatic experience. Mercy is never a possibility.
I've watched how nightmares begin throughout the years. It is neither bittersweet nor strawberry sundaes. It became worse with each decade, and nothing is more optional than death. I held my breath as I recalled the things that weren't reassuring and a wanderer to me. Consequences are unavoidable, and here I am experiencing them.
Living, I exacted wrath that may have been self-imposed; it was unintended. I felt terrible and gloomy, but respect is something that must be earned. I've been dealing with it for a long time. No one ever held my hand if every headline was about me. Nobody asked, but their deeds were rife with power and destruction.
How am I even the villain when all I ever wanted was serenity in death?
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