A Story of Rizka That Has Never Been Told

Her name was Rizka.

A friend of hers, once, questioned her reasons for always coming to his place.
“Why do you not like to stay at your place?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she replied.
Little did he knew that her room was not a room for her. It was like a jail and she felt like she was the prisoner captured innocent.
He did not know that a room he called “your place” could be something horrible like hell. He did not know what it meant to be alone in that isolating room.
Little did he knew that solitude of hers would wake the other her up. She, the real her, was not happy. She, the real her, did not like to be left alone because she, the other her, would do any harm to her, the real her, when they were two together. She, the other her, was very destructive to her, the real her, eventhough she, the other her, knew that she and the real her were the same one person.

And again, the friend of hers asked her a different question.
“Why do you keep walking around here and there like an iron ironing?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She said the same answer.
Little did he knew that she was very nervous. She was about to tell him something important but she hesitated.
“Should I tell him or should I not?” she thought.
“Is it important enough to tell or is it just me being too worry over this thing?” She kept questioning herself those questions.
The story she was about to tell was worrying and disturbing enough for her to think, and now there were other new additional questions that made her worry more.
She ended up with not telling him about her problem.

A lot of friends of hers asked, “What can we do to help you?”
And she said, “Pray for me.” She deliberately requested them to pray for her. It was not a joke.
Little did they knew that she requested them to pray for her in order to prevent herself, I did not know which one of her, from doing something crazy such as a suicide.
She knew for sure, the possibility of her killing her own self was pretty high, so she kept saying the pray-for-me shit.
“Pray for me to keep me alive.” That was the true meaning of her saying.

So, again, let me introduce you to Rizka. A girl with unstable mentality, who was considered as a boy by many of her friends. She hates her complicated way of thinking even though some of her friends said that her way of thinking was pretty awesome.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s