It is so strange, because I am so different now. I still enjoying writing, and I LOVE composing articles as well as creating stories. However, the things that I enjoy may very well be different. The things that I used to be afraid of have no effect on me anymore, but yet the things that I used to love, I am afraid of it. Happiness is like the wind, so easily blown away. Yet, the wind is again controlled by other elements and the wall blocks the wind. When the wind comes, we shall all be washed away. What if the wind blows us in another direction? That signals new hope.

It has been long since Jaime walked past those forlorn trees that swayed crookedly in the light breeze. Strange, how she was so afraid. Before that incident happened to her, she was never this sad. I must do this, I can overcome. She thought to herself. Each brave step she took seemed like a deep pound on her weak heart. Its rapid palpitations made her feel like she was going to die. The light rustling of the leaves. She remembered that night. That wicked face which tore her of all her protection and stripped her of all dignity. Shreds of light, chiffon whiteness that got stained with evil intentions. She remembered herself screaming, but no voice came out. Why, why me. Why am I subject to such pain. It was her favourite dress, and that wicked stranger tore it off so violently that she had no say. With each step she took, Jaime sobbed, and then it got worse and she screamed violently. Each rustle on each leaf were deep, CRUEL stabs on her tainted flesh. Will I ever be happy again. How can I be genuinely happy anymore.

Jaime finished the trail. It is now over, I will be safe. I will always be safe. I will always protect myself.