The Great Divide

There was a certain point in her life where she started to notice the tiny holes in her country’s exterior mask. Other countries chose to ignore it, delighted to see the once invincible country fall, while others didn’t even realize it.

Little by little, the holes began to grow. Where she was once only able to stick a finger in, she was now able to stick her entire hand in. She was uneasy, yes, but it didn’t worry her too much. She thought that they would be mended fast, and everything would be okay.

And yet, right before her very eyes, more holes began to appear. The previous ones grew larger and larger, until they were beyond repair. And still, she did not give up hope; she still clung onto the same dumbfounded hope that was with her in the beginning.

The holes grew larger. And larger. Until others who didn’t realize the holes before were now asking questions. Her country patched them up, pretending they never happened. And that stopped them from growing. They were duct-taped from the outside; patched up so only the country really knew what was going on, while outsiders only got a glimpse of what had happened.

But problems that are swept under the rug are not gone for long. Instead, they come back, becoming monstrously huge, until they are noticed and dealt with.

And it wasn’t long until they did come back, tearing the rug to shreds with its claws and releasing all of the other problems that were once hidden away as well.

And so her country became overwhelmed; where they were once respected, they fell from the top, tumbling down, down, down.

Her country became frantic, trying to solve all of these problems, all the while brushing them under the threadbare rug. But it didn’t work. The country went into chaos, and its government became frantic once more.

Where it was once peaceful, the country was now torn apart. Torn apart by the constant violence, torn apart by the poor leadership, torn apart by the threat that was made of shooting civilians. It all fueled the split. The divide grew larger and larger, until suddenly, she couldn’t see the other side anymore.

A couple years have passed since the chaos. She wishes that she had spoken up about the holes earlier, and didn’t wait. She wishes that she could go back and rewind the time, and patch up the growing holes. She wishes that she took action, instead of just waiting for others.

But there is no such thing as going back in time.

There is no wishing for everything to go back to normal.

This is her reality now, whether she chooses to accept it or not.

There is still time for her to speak up in these violent times.

But it’s up to her if she wants to take the chance.