Oddball

Even though she knew it was probably a sign of insanity to begin identifying with inanimate objects, she couldn't help but feel that the strange little bud she had come across was the perfect image for her life. This tiny, alien-looking thing somehow seemed to encapsulate her life in that moment. Odd colours, a strange shape, hard, almost harsh, confusing and seemingly impenetrable. Yes, that described her life. Especially the weirdness of it. Her life wasn't sitting with her as if it were her own. It was like one day she woke up and walked into someone else's life. Sure, it resembled her's, but it felt odd. Like a new shirt that didn't fit quite right. Actually, more like wearing someone else's clothes: completely unfamiliar. She knew they were clothes, and she knew she had worn clothes before, and yet there was something strange about these particular clothes. It was like the bud. She knew it was a flower bud, and she had seen flower buds before, it was just this particular bud that was so different that she didn't quite know what to do with it. And yet this oddball creation that was silently confronting her was beautiful in a striking way. Full of potential. Perhaps that was what made it so beautiful, not the shape that it was currently in, but the shape that it would become. Perhaps that was where the beauty in her life could also be found, not in the strange, unfamiliar, cumbersome shape it had taken on recently, but in the potential for what that shape would become.