10-25-2010

With a past not to be spoken about, only known by those close enough to be called a friends. Friends, though never there for her, she had promised always to be there for them. Lost in all worlds, a solo drifter; not welcome anywhere, yet not shunned by all. A victim in her own home; that was when they had a home, with no home she doesn't go back. Only forward, that’s all there is to expect anyway, more, more pain, more lies, and more cruelty. Going back only once since she left that terrible place. Only once since those words of how she should have left sooner. Only turning back that one time to see what’s real in her life, all which is left that matters to her, all that's left for her, her only joy. A father, a true real father, though he never stood up for his baby girl he still loved her and that was all she cared about. And a creature, her wonderful horse, which with one soft look with his big brown eyes could melt away all the pain. Lost in the moment of locked eyes all she thought about was how peaceful these moments were and how without them the blade would have surely won over her will to survive. All others in her life had lied, cheated, and now she would not trust nor believe anything. Everything is a lie, others pains are only complaints, they are weak. She does not cry, except that time some years ago when the closest friend she had died in a crash one cold winter night. Ever since then she was lost, never to find peace again. Brief moments would come around; very brief, always short lived, nothing good ever lasted in her life. And all it left was holes, empty bottomless holes of pain, yet in her eyes pain was a weakness, so no tears would ever fall from her eyes. No pain is weakness it can't be shown to the world, the world is cruel, and they will never understand her. She was worthless to them, scum, trash, someone who could easily be walked upon. With no self-esteem or confidence life never seemed to get better. So where else could she turn? The blade was her best friend, three long hard years of bloodshed every day, many times, every day. This was a last attempt to find control over something, anything, and her only true battle day to day was life. The desire to live had long since fled from her soul. All that was left was a heartless cold limp girl; no pain even fazed her now. Yes men beat her, but did the marks it left hurt? No, it didn't hurt her, she felt no pain, life meant walking from here to there, yet it had no purpose. Fight she thought, to live, but why? She never knew. Many nights she faded into sleep, the cuts so deep she never expected to wake, yet somehow the morning came as always and the blue eyes opened to the sun. This didn't help the pain; she wanted to die; only reasons unrelated to her keep her alive, selfless love of two things. Her father and her horse, that’s all that life had left for her. It was all she knew and loved. Yes, she loved those two. The power of her own mind was greater than even she knew; she resisted taking her life by the blade for three years, and one day quit altogether. For nearly a year the blade remained only a tempting figure in the back corners of her mind. Life had restarted, she was out of the cruel home, new people everywhere, and things could improve. And it did for nearly a month in this new place. And then everything, as always came crashing down again. Yes, the blade became her friend again, and again. Stopping between uses but more tempting with each new use, like a long lost friend whom just came back again. The blade brought her joy unknown by others, yet the joy was real. It made her happy with each pass, each stroke, a smile, life had meaning again. Just a few scars she thought, no one will care about that, it makes no difference. It was her choice after all, her life, her blade, her pain, though only emotional. And that was her life.