Mercita Isebell

Drama

4.6  

Mercita Isebell

Drama

Wish

Wish

1 min
319


The thing that made me mad was the gleaming silver medal in my hand. It was always silver. It always had been.


The harsh sun rays were beating down my back, coloured spots dancing in front of my closed eyes, sweat dripping from my forehead and trailing down my nose. But I couldn’t get my hand to wipe it as I lay down on the cool grass, victory shrieks in the background, the faraway music of the band, I wished, just wished, that the humiliation would fade away. The silver would turn miraculously gold and my years of bitterness sweet.


I just wished.

I just wished I could stop the piteous looks that I get from the judge and the arrogant ones from the one standing in the first position.

I was sick of being second best.

Always.


I just wished I could stop the taunting that I got every year as I reached home. “After all this time?” they would ask.

I wished.

I wished I could stop saying, “Always.”


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