The woman insider her...

(I won't call this one a "short story". comments welcome.)

She looked at the city. Sipping a glass of white wine, she was looking over from a high-rise building in one of the busiest cities in the world. Her life, her freedom, her thoughts, the journey.

Excruciating emotional pains, the lost bliss of ignorance.

She wonders if she would have been happier had she not understood with clarity how the world worked, or if she hadn't played with her own emotions and of others to such an extent that it became a game.

A game.

It's a woman's dream to be swept away by someone's charm. That someone.

Her friends have been longing for the man, waiting for the environmental opportunity.

She couldn't wait. She didn't want to. She knew that no Prince Charming would come to her on his own, at least not soon. She had to go out and lure the princes to herself.

She would draft stories for her friends on how she met guys and how her relationships moved forward. They would be amazed on how she managed to get so many guys to fall in for her. But she would keep the realities of seduction to herself. And of the power of alcohol.

She longed for that someone, that perfect story.

She knew it wouldn't be perfect, unless she relived some of her innocence. That she knew what made men tick made it impossible for her to look at her current relationship as "innocent love" anymore. She know how the tricks worked in this one, as with every other.

But isn't this what the world is all about? Is there really something like "love", or just a series of obsessions and ignoring the realities of relationships?

The woman inside her was suffocating from her own clarity.

Was it true everything is bland and ugly at its core? People just assign beauty to feelings and objects because being happy with yourself is the ultimate goal?

What if she is not happy with what she has got? What if she is still searching for that perfect partner, even though she's going ahead with yet another relationship to avoid the void?

She thinks.