Writing Prompts – DON’T


Pic Credit : https://cdn.englishforums.com/image:/sitefs/perm/pi/4/b/9/z/r/401.598.0_rb242cgsvxtr.jpg
Pic Credit : https://cdn.englishforums.com/image:/sitefs/perm/pi/4/b/9/z/r/401.598.0_rb242cgsvxtr.jpg



She used to be a lonely child.

Shielded by society, shielded from the world.

Hidden in the wings of an empty house,

Left alone to fend her own.


And all she was ever told, all she remembers hearing from her parents, her family always began with the words, “Don’t…”

“Don’t sit too close to the T.V”, “Don’t argue with your brother,” “Don’t talk to strangers,” “Don’t cry,” “Don’t be afraid,” “Don’t be angry,” “Just don’t…”

Don’t this, don’t that… Why was that?

As a child, she did not know how important it was to be able to express herself – how important it was to let her feelings be known. She never knew the consequences of letting everything be bottled up inside. All she knew was she was slowly becoming an unhappy child and that her parents often felt that she was a burden, more so since she was quite peculiar, with her empty look and her thinly pressed lips.

She never knew it was unnatural not to smile.

Or that it was natural for a small kid to cry.

Restrictions, hindrance, orders and obligations – a chaos of concoction created to suffocate her… and yet, she was blinded by the fact that this was a man-made cage; a cage she had a hand in building, a cage that was locked with the key hidden deep within her mind. She had gladly surrendered the key in fear of the unknown for she had been shielded for far too long that she now no longer has her own thoughts. Her thoughts were now easily manipulated by those around her and the sad part about it all? – Everyone knows it and does nothing about it.

Who is to be blamed here? Those who restricted or her own self, for allowing her soul to be shackled, bound without restraint?

She often felt like she didn’t belong there. Or anywhere else for the matter. It was as if there’s a tiny voice inside her head that ridiculed her no matter what she did. The fact that she couldn’t fit in with those around her was another constant thorn in every step that she tried to put forward. They didn’t have to tell her that she wasn’t welcomed there – she knew, it was hard to miss.

It was in their subtle glances, in the rise of their animated voices when they looked at her. It was in the quick pointing of their fingers, the ones they thought she never noticed. She spoke, not in the language of her mother tongue, but the language of the ‘invaders’, a fact that most of her ‘kind’ would remind her as often as possible. She looked, behaved and acted in a way that did not sink in smoothly with them, nor with anyone else for the matter.

While she was used to racism, it was still a concept unfathomable to her. She would always feel like a stranger in a foreign land. Don’t expect her to talk about this openly, for she never will – it’s not as if those around her would accept it in the first place. The idea, the concept of such in a land like ours seems mind boggling to many – they do not believe that such a thing still exist – the idea of transparency being a concluding factor is a mockery really, it’s still a work in progress but don’t you dare say or suggest that – you’ll be made into a mockery instead.

It did not occur to her that being herself was accepted – not with those judging looks, especially when it was from those who shared her blood.

She felt trapped – suffocated – what was she supposed to do?

Don’t – don’t worry about what others think about you.

Don’t worry about what others say about you.

Her feelings, a mess of sticky, panic anxiety. A molten lava of hot emotions pouring from every pore of hers, smothering her, drowning those who got too close – for no one ever thought of wading it, no one ever thought of swimming across it, diving in to find the real her. And so, her emotions, her feelings became the very thing she was afraid of – AFTER the stigma that she faced socially.

If she wasn’t falling apart outside, she was in the inside.

“You’re too emotional,” “You’re too sensitive,” “You’re too weird,” “You’re too eccentric.”

These kind of judgement, these kind of branding. She didn’t liked to be tagged – she didn’t liked to be labelled. And yet even then, she was still clueless – she still did not realize, nor understand the fault that was hers to begin with. She still allowed herself to be painted in hues that was wrong on her.

Her feelings weren’t unfounded, her sense of being was simply something that was uniquely hers. It did not matter that she was irrelevant to those around her – as long as she didn’t make herself irrelevant to her own mind.

It’s part of the process – a part of something she needed to experience growing up. She was afraid to admit she felt out of place and yet, she didn’t realise how great of a gift that was.

All she wanted was to belong, to a place that she could call home. When she couldn’t, when there wasn’t a place to call home, she felt lost.

Don’t be afraid – it’s part of being human. Don’t be afraid, be human. Everyone is afraid, yet we still move forward, we still push ourselves out of our comfort zone. For that’s how we lived.

That’s when she realize that’s how she wanted to live.

Unafraid, unbiased, unashamed.

And with love.



Don’t let people dictate you. Don’t allow someone to rob you of the only thing that will always be yours. If you don’t have your back, If you don’t love yourself, who will?


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