LOST: An Injured Soul in Dire Need of a Gentle Kind of Love
She sits quietly humming to herself as though she has not a care in the world. The aura that surrounds her, as I look cautiously in her direction, is a peaceful array of colors that touch me deeply. Her world is one where life is separate from mind. Her universe is one where an escape can come in any form that she chooses. It is an existence in which she can live contentedly within her own emotions. It is because of all of this that she can enjoy her present with due reverence paid to an earlier time.
A single word or movement can pull her back into the present and affect her in too many ways. Her reactions are unpredictable and, at times, beyond comprehension. Although, in some way they are expected; understandable in substance but not in form.
Her long, blonde, curly hair and delicate blue eyes reflect the soul of an angel. Her spirit is a wise old soul. She is strength in its purest form. She is light that opens and closes at her whim. Her soft, olive skin and tender touch reach deep into places that should be closed off from others. But with her, you crave that tenderness as though it is a healing. It almost looks as though it heals her, too. She finds that place in you that warms the cold recesses that she calls home. Sadly, her heart is filled with them.
Her reality emerged in much the same way all realities emerge. Senses became certainty through the touch of another. Reality became emotion. But somewhere in her path, emotion became survival. Her life did not carry on as one would imagine or desire. There became a need to maintain herself yet lose herself all at the same time. She could not have known who she was without the existence that she was given. The sting of neglect penetrated not just the lack that she knew. It penetrated deep into her hunger for a relationship that had meaning. Eventually, it fed that hunger with other emotions that created this person that she is.
As time moved on the emptiness of the life that was thrust upon her created a strong sense of independence. Such self-determination began to create a barrier that would not allow others to intrude. If she were asked, she might tell you that she doesn’t rely because reliance means eventual avoidance. But yet, through her eyes you can see the longing for certain dependence. She desires to be held so securely that safety is never questioned. She doesn’t leave a door open, though. She closes you out the moment she lets you in. Or does she ever really let you in?
She only knows how to embrace people from a distance. She let them in once upon a time. They closed her out. The tender touch that she so desired was replaced with distance, neglect. She needed them but did not understand why they did not need her. It never occurred to her, nor could she comprehend that they were incapable of getting close. Being close to her would mean they had to trouble themselves with her. Being close to her would draw them in to feel that serenity that she forces on an unwitting soul. Selfishness could no longer be their way of life. How was she to know that they couldn’t?
She began to hate. Not the utter demonic hate that creates hostilities but the bitter, hurtful hate that creates silent anger and distance. It is a hate that never allows intimacy or companionship. It is a hate that could ruin a person’s life and draw that person inward.
She uses it to her advantage. She uses it to drive everyone away. It is in her arsenal of weapons that keep her safe from the hurt that has displaced the love. She knows that as long as she hates, as long as she is angry, no one can injure her again. These weapons will keep all of them at bay. They can do what they want. They can say what they want. But they will hate her as much as she hates them. Then the pain will not be pain anymore. The pain will be revenge as they cry out of the guilt that they have instilled within themselves. The pain will be her sword to avenge her own heart. It will be the building blocks of a fortress that is in the making.
Her barriers are being placed where no barriers should ever have existed. She doesn’t know how to love, so she just doesn’t. She sees you coming with those big blue eyes that seem to observe everything, even beyond what we can perceive. She knows when to draw inward to the anger that alienates. She has spent a lifetime of learning the emotional battles that she can play, and win.
She learned that nighttime comes when no one is watching. Nighttime is the time when everyone in the world sleeps and she doesn’t have to worry about all of those eyes that watch, waiting to pounce on her emotions. She can enjoy the moment of her mind's eye and her life with no concern of anything outside of that moment. She doesn’t have to worry about the drugs, the drinking.
Did they create the situation or did the situation create them? Her mind doesn’t expand to allow her to understand the reality of it. She does not even know that they actually existed. She only knows that the people she was supposed to count on changed when the drugs became a part of her life. Those are the people who taught her the use of anger. Did they really think that she was going to let them do this to her? She would fight back. She only had tears, words, and rages. But those things hurt them, made them angry. It affected them on some level. They reacted. At least then, they knew she existed.
She didn’t know any other type of existence. Was there a different type of existence? Could a person arouse knowledge of her existence with love and caring? If you ask her, she will likely tell you no. She will tell you that it is fleeting and fake. Why bother with it, when the stronger effect is anger and hate? She has always gotten whatever she wanted just by being difficult. They couldn’t handle it. They all eventually gave up, even the strongest. But more importantly, eventually, they all would leave her alone to the silence of her spirit.
Broken. That is the word to describe her spirit. Broken past the normal understanding. You wouldn’t know it though because you wouldn’t know what she has been through.
“No one loves me. I don’t love anyone”. She spits that out easily as she attempts to push you away.
The love was not always absent. There were those times when the guilt overwhelmed the guilty. The apologies and lavish attention gave a glimmer of hope. Could it possibly change? Is there really love? At first, she knew it would be alright. It didn’t take long before the neglect, the abuse came rushing back in to tackle her down. That is what brought her to this point of stolid determination. She no longer reached out for those times of guilt ridden affection. Now, she just let it happen. She just passively let it take its course. She knew it would end and the pain would come back. It always did. Now her eyes were vacant and her touch was cold.
Will she see differently with different circumstances? She is who she is even now. The barriers that must be broken are strong and tall. She is not what you would suppose from a mere glimpse. Already she has lived many lifetimes in a short time. Already she has gone through what most of us never will. Already she has wisdom beyond her years.
Yet, she is a mere two and a half years old. She still has her whole life ahead of her. She has felt too much. She shuts out much more. Her life can easily be laid to ruin. It can also be lifted to heights immeasurable, if someone can find a way back in. Her parents closed that door on her long ago; but not so long ago. A moment is an eternity.
She sits quietly in strong arms as the tension mounts in her little shaken body. She doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t know why she was taken. She doesn’t know why she is in a stranger’s house. Scared and broken, she fights moment by moment to maintain her self-determination. Her mind races to find the ways to keep her anger and her hate in her core despite the abundant love before her. All of this turmoil ripens in a single moment. So much emotion exists in a mere second. She knows that she must remain passive. Eventually these arms will also fall and push her away. She will make those arms hate her. She will make them fight.
Somewhere deep she feels the desire to remain. Could this be real? Might it linger? That thought is buried far too deep under uncertainty and will. It creeps in long enough for a moment of doubt. But, the arms fall away.
“I knew it.” She doesn’t know the words but she knows the feeling; emptiness again.
As she backs away the arms speak, “I will not leave. You will be safe. I will love you.”
Again, it lingers for only a moment. She knows it is fleeting. She knows it is surreal. It always has been.
Her understanding of life as it is has not allowed her to see past false hope. She can never let down the almost impregnable walls that exist for her protection. How long did it take to build them? Was it months or was it her whole life? She only knows what she has done, will do. She only knows what they have done before. Yet, she sees a twinkle of hope. Should she let it grow one last time? No, not now. Not yet.
The arms come back. She stays close when she can move away. She touches when she could retreat. She seems to melt at a loving touch, reluctantly. She still does not know if she can trust. But it feels so good to be held so tightly, so lovingly. To indulge for a moment is to indulge for a lifetime. Like a warm blanket on a cold winter night, she holds onto the moment. Only briefly does she remain as she finally wiggles her way to the familiar cold, strength of her own inner sanctuary.
“There will be another moment, another day. I will wait to see.” She feels this as she moves on and the arms retreat as she knew they would. They always do.
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