A product of her environment,
a creature clinging to [unhealthy] habits.
As a child, there was hope, promise . . . naivety.
Growing older, there was chaos and rebellion, a loss of the aforementioned.
Addiction became a priority,
it seems to be prevalent wherever you turn.
A lack of faith led to magnified fears,
no spiritual foundation left her lost.
When cruel words were said, she believed them,
and it became impossible to see or hear any good.
Full of insecurities and neuroses,
she sunk deeper in to oblivion -
and for a while, she enjoyed it;
preferred it over reality, which was painful.
Self-destruction came in many forms,
all of which she wanted to partake in.
The darkness called to her,
it screamed so loudly and was terribly frightening,
but because she couldn't see the Light or hear the truth,
she ran for the abyss.
She sought those like her,
and those even lower.
There was no way people above could ever accept this
inadequate girl; she didn't even think her family could.
So blind, so blind . . .
Fragile, broken, empty.
It continued for a few years,
and the only change was the severity of the damage.
In those depths, though, were moments . . .
short spurts of clarity, cracks of Light seeping through,
whispers of the truth.
There were hands reaching out.
She couldn't understand why,
didn't even want to for a while,
because oblivion was easier to reach.
She didn't want it,
but she knew nothing else.
There was a breaking point.
It was all so unexpected.
So many questions, so few answers . . .
Eventually, the truth became evident.
The light that had previously shone only temporarily would not dim,
and although the illumination left her full of anxiety,
she wanted the change,
she prayed for change;
each step and each breath was a prayer,
a desperate desire for her purpose to be revealed.
She stumbled into recovery,
she grasped the hands that were held out.
She suddenly stopped wanting to self-destruct;
she realized that the pain she felt would not disappear
through the methods she had been practicing,
and she wanted more than that.
There is pain - there always will be.
There will always be chaos, confusion,
and she will remain an alcoholic addict for the rest of her days . . .
but there is a daily reprieve.
There is a God, there is a purpose, there is a path,
and she wants to walk it.
NOT ALONE, never alone. She never will be.
It is never easy. It is a rollercoaster,
and she still has yet to outgrow adolescence.
There have been many mistakes,
and there will be more.
It is still something that can overwhelm her.
The pressures of life alone seem monolithic.
She still struggles with inadequacy,
with egomania,
with selfishness
and the role of "the hero."
She is a contradiction,
an enigma.
There is more,
a lot more to this story,
but there will be even more
as she continues on this journey,
as long as God will allow.
She wants to find her purpose and reach the destination she was meant to.
She has hope and promise.
She has love and wants more.
She may never again be naive, but these lessons . . .
She's willing to learn.
Please hold her hand and never let her walk alone.
Please protect her, for she is more fragile than she likes admitting.
Please never give up. Hold on to faith.
No longer blind, no longer blind.
This could go on forever, but for now . . .
She has let go of it with a pen applied to paper.
A broken adolescent
trying to grow up (sometimes too quickly)
and find sanity and stability
in this crazy and chaotic world.
A girl
trying to recover and
find love, peace, and harmony
in this cruel, war obsessed, discordant time.
We'll see how this goes . . . |
Submission Name: Autobiography[short story version].
