A little girl stands in front of me. She has tear stains on her cheeks, she has scratches on her knees, she has bruises on her cheeks. Her clothes are worn, her eyes are glistening, her bag is torn. I can see she wants to cry, she wants to curl up in a ball, she wants to be held and to be told ‘it’s going to be okay’. But no one else can see it.
This little girl grows up a bit. She stands a bit taller, but still shrinks down on herself. She has longer hair which she wishes wasn’t there. She has scars that she doesn’t understand. Her clothes are baggie, her eyes still glisten, her bag is no where to be seen. I can tell she wants to run away, she doesn’t want to be here, but she knows she has to and tries her best to stand tall. She puts an act on that no one seems to see through…but me.
A few years later. There’s darkness in her eyes; no emotion goes through. She smiles at her parents, at her friends, at her siblings. She starts to understand the scars on her body; the ones that are there forever. Her knees are scraped and her elbows hurt, but those will disappear. Her clothes are dirtied, wrinkled, and faded. She smiles. She puts the bow on, she ties up the ribbon, she dances in the dress. But she knows it’s not her.
More years pass on. The darkness seemed to have grown. It’s everything that I can see now. There’s no hope in this girl. She doesn’t know where she wants to go. She knows she doesn’t belong here. Still, she puts on a smile and fakes to her parents who don’t seem to listen. Her own friends know better than to believe her every lie, but most of the time they still do. She’s deeply isolated from everyone…but that’s not where she wants to be.
A year later. There are new scars on her arms, on her stomach, on her wrists. She doesn’t know what to do. Everything hurts. Knives had been stabbed, words been yelled, hearts been broken. All she feels is pain. All she sees is darkness. All she wants is this all to end. But she knows better. She tries to hold on…but it’s hell living for her. Her parents yell at her, not understanding a single thing. She’s tired of trying to explain..she’s tired of fighting…she’s tired of living. But she continues. on. and on. and on.
A few years later. She’s better. But the darkness still lives. The person she once was still has its life source to eat off of. The scars are there, she’s starting to be okay with that fact. She’s cracked a smile, but it’s still hard for her. She doesn’t know who she can trust, who is truly there for her and who just wants to use her. She’s getting tired again…hopefully she doesn’t go back to that dark place.
A year later. She wants to escape from here still…but she just wants to leave. She knows there’s more out there in the world for her. She knows there’s a lot more she has to experience. She’s been strong until now, she hopes she can go father. The future is ahead of her, and she doesn’t know what to do with it.
When I look into the mirror, I see the girl who’s stuck through this far…and doesn’t know what to do from here. But she’s gotten here, so she’s okay…for now…