Sleep as a Hobby

Whenever villagers are in trouble, they would always say, “Talk to THE girl.”

Everyone in a neighborhood knows about an orphan girl who lives alone in a dark but warm basement. She is scared of going outside, so she spends her life in a cozy prison she called ‘house.’ Little kids around and adults alike, visit her ant like house occasionally to play computer. She has a room full of computers; she charges 10 bucks an hour of computer time as a way to make her living. People feel comfort, the kind you can have only in a mother’s womb while staying in her house. Probably because the girl with a mood of sweet loving sponge cake, greets everyone with a delightful smile of welcome. People who are tired from their life or in grief volunteer to stay in her house, cleaning.

She is not alone; there are always computer geeks; who have fragile hearts, for accompaniment. They are the kind of people who like to be secluded from the world; seeing only through a small window called a screen. They each had their own story of being abandoned, of being hurt by the ‘scary’ outside world, full of predators. Everyone has their own vulnerable spot which was fully accepted by the girl who has the special talent; listening.

She has an extraordinary communication style which allows each one of them to talk from his or her heart.
There are not many out there who truly ‘listen’ to such frivolous small stories as she does. The girl has a way of giving a kind interest to anyone needed. It is not that she asked particular questions or talked in a skillful way. She would just quietly sit in a corner, and listen intently with her whole heart, and ‘see’ the person with her big black eyes full of twinkles that seems to contain a part of the universe.
It does not matter whether a person is a failure or useless, their ruined, painful mind would soon be wide open for the talk. They would reflect themselves; unconsciously, like a mirror. They realize its own problems which are laid within oneself, and are derived to change positively.

All the while the girl just magically ‘listens.’

The person would peek one’s face behind a door, still afraid, and slowly but eventually would open his mind little by little, without one’s notice. A talk will shyly start with one’s recent complaint or negative grumble, and then the person would gain confidence step by step to somehow bravely think of a bright resolution that he never thought of before. Unhappy and stressful person tired of the world would slowly regain their energy, becoming brighter with hope. It is truly amazing to see the process of a shivering and miserable child coming out of a shell as fully grown and bright ‘true self.’

The funny thing is… she is not cognitive to this power. The action is out from her unconscious; her loving heart to genuinely care for each individual, offering help. She is a typical girl who would not stand out in any group. She has her own problem as well.

It was late at night. She was making a snack that would bring more joy to everyone. She heard few faint knock on a door.

She smiled, ‘Probably a USB left by Rob.’

As she was about to open, she noticed pastel coloured letters attached to the door. She could not figure out the writings in darkness, so she lit up a light for a better view.

They were…… thank you letters, encouraging words. From people she unconsciously helped.

Tears gathered in her eyes. She is touched by such… … such kindness.
‘The world is brighter than I thought.’

She can not exactly spot a moment when she first started feeling hesitant to go outside.
She was raised by a single mother who devoted her entire life trying to create the ‘perfect’ music. The mother had lost her almost perfect son, killed by asthma. The sorrow made the mother obsess over her new born girl whose life was set to become the greatest musician the world has ever known.

The girl was a living puppet; following orders and lessons automatically, she would get severely punished for any kinds of mistake. Spanking to shivering and standing nakedly outside. Discontent was not an option for the piteous little girl. How could she ever ‘trust’ someone while her own mother hates her? She chose to suffer in silence, which her mother thought was the only thing she’s good at. The girl got more terrified with her sparrow like singing always negatively criticized by her mother.
It was like any other monotone day, the girl received a phone call of her mother’s death; from an accidental car crash. The orphan girl never left the house ever since; resting… … till this day.

She made a firm promise with tightly gripped hands, and finally spoke something she has not done these past few years; with her beautiful, rhythmic voice, “I will see the light of tomorrow.”