Rocks.

Rocks are made, not born.

A long time ago there was a girl. There was nothing special about her, or so she thought. She used to be below average in studies and she thought that that made her virtually worthless. She didn’t have many friends, but the ones she had were treasured far more than anything else in here life.

Time passed. Things changed. The girl looked at her life, took a decision and tried to change her life. Her first basic instinct was to study harder, because she thought that what defined a person. So she did exactly that.

She worked hard and gained success. She also gained a friend along the way. A friend who meant more than…..anything. When she finally gained success, she realized that everyone was buried too deep in their own problems for her to share her happiness with.

She felt empty. All her life, she spent listening to everyone, her parents, her friends. She helped, advised, listened, did everything in her power to make things better for people around her.

But then one night, with the moon high up in the sky, she realized how long it had been since someone listened to her. To her problems, worries, dreams. Since someone advised her. Since someone cared.

Somewhere along the way to the place where she now is, she became a rock. A cold hard rock. A rock which accepts all the blows, is used for everything from paperweights to weapons. A rock which accepts everything, but lets nothing out.

As I said, Rocks are made, not born

-Mango2

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