When I look back at my life I wonder what I'll think. I know I'm young, and to ponder this is so bizarre, but really when I take those long walks down memory lane this is what I see.
I see this staircase. As I'm sitting at the top I can hear the yelling and crying. She runs right pass me cursing and talking to herself. The door below slams. Years pass until the day I see him again. Not that it matters, though hopes through our family were there, I was never truly his.
That day marked the rest of my life. It marked my choices, my beliefs, my lack of faith and courage in love.
With the following years, I can feel the ice. I can feel the angst I felt when my hero thought the best option for me was to be placed with family. From the "families" I can relive these moments as if they are on a constant wheel before my eyes. The images of bruises are as if they were placed there yesterday. The stench of breath tainted with alcohol reminds me of that fist he would periodically place upon her face. A baby's cry makes me think of when she would leave me alone with him, those long nights spent on the bathroom floor are far to familiar to me. I can still hear the snickers of on looking peers as the whips pierced my skin as a source of entertainment.
I was a child who didn't believe in tears, a child forced to fend for myself, a little girl who didn't believe in love, a little girl who didn't let a man anywhere near. A child abandoned.
With a small amount of time passed, I remember getting the sister I always wanted. I remember feeling briefly home. Still numb and resistant, I had a pillow to lay my against head for that short year.
When that was all over, because the good days always halt to an end, I was back with my hero. She continued to be full of sorrow as different faces came in and out of our lives. Roofs of all different sorts were our definition of home. The line, "home is where the heart is," was all we could rely on for the years that passed.
With glazed eyes and broken promises, we lived together with pure content that had an underlining disparity in my brick soul.
After continuous hurt, loneliness, and betrayal, that little girl reached a point where this life was all she ever looked forward to. There was no light in site, and her reality was paved with the same old path of unattainable dreams.
So, I look back and I see this broken child. I want to go to that little girl and hug her, I want to tell her that everything is going to be okay, I want to tell her that she's about to discover a love that is going to rock and transform her world.
In March of 2006, I can still remember the stiff wind against my cheeks as I stood at the bottom of the mountain. Eyes closed and heart open I remember each step to the peak. I reminisce on this vision, the first vision to give me chills and comfort at once. The cross stood tall and overlooked the children who were like me in many ways. I've never felt a love so overwhelming, a love so strong, a love so peaceful. That broken little girl was mended.
Right now, as I look back at the trials that came after that experience, from rain to gun point, and from death to discovery, I still feel hurt and I still feel lost at times, but overall I still feel Gods unchanging love. My father who saved me from myself, my God who took me out of the social statistic. No one on this land chose me, but He did.
When I look back on my life so far, I see triumph, I see a girl who loves unconditionally, I see a child heart that's still vulnerable. I see a girl who is still afraid to trust, I see a young woman who perseveres, I see a young woman who's faith undoubtedly shapes her life. I see a woman who is strong willed and stubborn. I see a woman who is still growing and learning to walk with her heart daily. I see a girl who isn't afraid to to cry. I see a girl who was the exception.
That day marked the rest of my life. It marked my choices, my beliefs, my lack of faith and courage in love.
With the following years, I can feel the ice. I can feel the angst I felt when my hero thought the best option for me was to be placed with family. From the "families" I can relive these moments as if they are on a constant wheel before my eyes. The images of bruises are as if they were placed there yesterday. The stench of breath tainted with alcohol reminds me of that fist he would periodically place upon her face. A baby's cry makes me think of when she would leave me alone with him, those long nights spent on the bathroom floor are far to familiar to me. I can still hear the snickers of on looking peers as the whips pierced my skin as a source of entertainment.
I was a child who didn't believe in tears, a child forced to fend for myself, a little girl who didn't believe in love, a little girl who didn't let a man anywhere near. A child abandoned.
With a small amount of time passed, I remember getting the sister I always wanted. I remember feeling briefly home. Still numb and resistant, I had a pillow to lay my against head for that short year.
When that was all over, because the good days always halt to an end, I was back with my hero. She continued to be full of sorrow as different faces came in and out of our lives. Roofs of all different sorts were our definition of home. The line, "home is where the heart is," was all we could rely on for the years that passed.
With glazed eyes and broken promises, we lived together with pure content that had an underlining disparity in my brick soul.
After continuous hurt, loneliness, and betrayal, that little girl reached a point where this life was all she ever looked forward to. There was no light in site, and her reality was paved with the same old path of unattainable dreams.
So, I look back and I see this broken child. I want to go to that little girl and hug her, I want to tell her that everything is going to be okay, I want to tell her that she's about to discover a love that is going to rock and transform her world.
In March of 2006, I can still remember the stiff wind against my cheeks as I stood at the bottom of the mountain. Eyes closed and heart open I remember each step to the peak. I reminisce on this vision, the first vision to give me chills and comfort at once. The cross stood tall and overlooked the children who were like me in many ways. I've never felt a love so overwhelming, a love so strong, a love so peaceful. That broken little girl was mended.Right now, as I look back at the trials that came after that experience, from rain to gun point, and from death to discovery, I still feel hurt and I still feel lost at times, but overall I still feel Gods unchanging love. My father who saved me from myself, my God who took me out of the social statistic. No one on this land chose me, but He did.
When I look back on my life so far, I see triumph, I see a girl who loves unconditionally, I see a child heart that's still vulnerable. I see a girl who is still afraid to trust, I see a young woman who perseveres, I see a young woman who's faith undoubtedly shapes her life. I see a woman who is strong willed and stubborn. I see a woman who is still growing and learning to walk with her heart daily. I see a girl who isn't afraid to to cry. I see a girl who was the exception.
