Jaded

I hate the way things get derelict right before school starts. Or maybe it is the fact that tough days are abound us again that accentuates the gloom. Naiveness always lead to false hopes. I held on, I prayed for a miracle, it happened once. The second time, I clasped my hands and prayed as hard as I could, squeezing my eyes close till stars and squiggly little sparks bobbed in the darkness. Like an ignorant child, I made promises in exchange. I sworn on being a good girl, the very best I can be. I would listen to advice, eat my vegetables, sleep early, open my textbooks.

Bit by bit, timid eyelids fluttered open. Knuckles were pale. It was a struggle to untangle the knot of fingers. A flare of heat stung my nose, then a tiny wetness on my cheek. It was hard to take in, but no confusion could be unearthed in the sea of black and white.

Is that why it's called a miracle?