The Truth About Alice, Right Now

I feel as if I am a less-striking version of that GIF right now.
When dreams crash, it’s easier to see them on the ground than realizing they aren’t bouncing up.
Whoever said that life is hard, probably just said the understatement of the century.
Back when Alice was younger, the only thing that bothered her was how the hell she ended up wounded inside that damned PLDT manhole. Growing up, she thought that the hardest question she’ll ask herself was how the hell did she survive the first 10 years of her life without having their own radio.
But she ended up so wrong about that.
Never in a million years did she think that she’ll ever see herself repeatedly starting over, trying to figure out where she wants to go or if that place is where she’s supposed to be.
Did she believe in fate?
Did she believe in signs?
She listened to her childhood superhero, Superman. You control your destiny and all the crap. So, she pushed through the direction she had in mind, although she wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.
Then, came nothing.
It was finally time to cut the Superman crap and accept reality.
Not all dreams come true.
Or at least when they do, it’s usually a hard slap of reality that a dream is just a bitter, melting realization that they aren’t what you’ve pictured them to be.
Or whatever.
At the end of the day, someone usually ends up with teary eyes and an uncertain future; or a crushed self-esteem.
When dreams crash, someone always ends up hurt.
When dreams crash, someone always ends up having nothing at all.
They say no dream is too big or small or that David defeated Goliath with a stone but tell that to someone who cares.
When dreams crash, they usually just crash, giving you a tight feeling in the gut that makes you want to regret every single decision that left you where you stand at that moment – with nothing but your shattered dreams.
Alice doesn’t regret ever taking her feet off the ground – or at least that’s the lie she tells herself everytime she wakes up in the morning. It’s a constant battle with pride or a truth she didn’t want to admit.
That’s the one, constant thing she keeps telling herself as she goes through an entire day of absolutely nothing but hating the fact that she’s given up for the first time in her life.
They call it withdrawal.
Or whatever excuse people give these days.
 
She struts and smiles and rants about how she hates the TV show that told her dreams can come true.

But Alice is not fine, no matter how many times she says she is

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