It was nine in the night.

Laura was lying on her bed and trying to sleep very hard. She could feel her abdomen and the part below it intensely warm, greasy and sticky. She was aware of the fact that she was having her natural biological cycles which every female has every month and she was also aware that they were inevitable. She was used to pain and the cramps because after all, that pain could never patch the psychology ecological pain she had to face at times.

She often wondered whether she could ever become an author or get published in a completely understand frank autobiography or find a book in which she could completely resonate with the main character. She tried to understand how tropes came to be in the first place and how authors could write a book perfectly, logically with a specific, concrete plot and storyline and stay committed till the very end, yet to make or sound interesting and realistic. Also, she was unable to understand how people were so intrigued by complexity and ambiguity of literature most people hunted For that. Painfully obvious plots were always ditched and rejected the killing potential authors and their talent and capacity. She for one, couldn't stay devoted a piece of literature or work as much as the authors could, let alone rejection, she’d do suicide.

She always tried to connect with people yet always felt alone, the more hopeless she felt. She got convinced by each of interactions every time that she was never meant to exist and was just there to serve as the oddball trope in a cliché adventure movie where only the characters who are confident and capable get highlighted and the rest serve as side characters, mere background items which are optional and no needed to enhance the beauty of an already well- furnished room. Inspite of her low self-esteem, she felt she had disguised sort of invisible, non-existent

pride which set a desire in her and sort of turn her into a totally different person. Either for a revolution or for complete disaster( unleashing her wrath on the world). She had, indeed a strange and complicated persona and she wished she had been better so people could admire her uniqueness and authenticity and appreciate her persona, like an artwork created by God, the greatest artist himself.

She genuinely was concerned about people and wanted to help them solve their problems. She wanted them to open up to her and ask her for advice and she did not need any credit for that. JUST simply the role of the guardian angel for once, so even if she remains unnoticed and overlooked, she could WORTH and a place in the world.

In spite of her bizarre nature, she felt p pride in her uniqueness and authenticity. At times she felt so thankful to God because of the fact that she was different from others even though not better or valued but just different. Whatever little self -esteem she had it stemmed from her belief on her Lord and her uniqueness. Sometimes she felt she'd rather die than lose her identity and firt in with ‘ normal’ or ‘common’ crowd.