The armour

A small piece I wrote, sitting in the wee hours of the morning...trying my best to sleep. Spurts of writing are the best, I tell you. They clear the haze in your head. Gives us the breathing space, we so desperately seek.

"Someone had once told her…she had a beautiful smile; an aura that lit up an entire room. It drew people to her.  It drew them to the life pulsating inside her. They told her that her happiness wasn’t frivolous however. It came from within. It was bone deep:  A separate living breathing entity of its own. A second soul, very much an individual as it was intrinsic.

They said the happiness awoke something inside them. It was the bizarre origin of its genuine character perhaps that lead to the effect it had on others. It was supposed to have come from extremes of sadness. A strong characteristic strength of survival gave it all the more personality. It was beautiful, her happiness. It radiated with the will to shine, despite life. Life, being what it really is: a tough road to walk on.

Her happiness liberated them. It freed them of their own fears. It helped them believe they could radiate the same way too. She gave them hope and faith by being a living, breathing example, which God had never really been. She, however, was one of them. She was believable. Keeping their faith in her was a better bargain any day. Such responsibility. Such trust.

She wondered at how badly all of us want to believe that we will conquer something in life someday, that we will die happy people, without regrets…without pain and sadness. However, the truth wasn’t pretty, truth being what it is: bitterly honest.

She wondered at the power of denial, the resilience we humans possessed and she smiled. There, standing in the face of pain and suffering she realised she had her armour and her shield. The only thing that was most valuable to her. She never really understood the gravity of it until now; how lucky she was to have her smile. How completely armed she was."