Snow

                Blonde, slender; merely physical characteristics by which I was classified. Sorted into a group with the innocent and pretty, but let’s not forget the ignorance. Sure, I believed in the good in everyone (I still do, but now I see bad as well) but it couldn’t allow me to be safe.

         I was one of those girls that wore her heart out in front of her. Some are lucky; someone sees their heart and vows to go as far as to lay down their life to protect it. I wasn’t so lucky. I tasted a spark and it burnt. The burn will fade, but never disappear.

         Before the spark, before the questions, before the newness- What lies there? Beneath these depths I believe I can find something. Friends of a different nature, friends who knew nothing of my new persona. My new eyes that gave me sight of everything; but this only made me afraid to look.

         Not a one of my friends made no lasting difference in my life, but not every last one of them sticks in my mind like gum to a shoe. Marisha, Kelly, Isabelle, Dakota; all these names come rushing back in uncontrollable floods that cannot be swam through. I will drown in memories, I will drown in names, I will drown in faces, I will drown in snips of conversation- words stabbing like needles straight through my skull. So many names I cannot sort them through, so many people that have changed and shaped me like clay for better or for worse.

                I suppose I used to be snow, once clean but eventually tainted with blood and tears. Was it a sacrifice, a lesson, or merely an accident? Some days it feels like all at once.

         Snow falling. The fragile world around me is blocked from my vision by swirling gusts of snow and bitter memories. Some flakes hit my skin and melt; their shiver never penetrating beneath my skin. But some seem to sink straight through, cutting me into shards. Red flashes before me; I see blood tainting snow. Is my innocence tainted? Or is it merely my memories? Perhaps it will end with both.

         Names. Faces. Each a fragile snowflake, melting yet lingering. A hand on my shoulder. Ghosts of my past? Maybe figments of my imagination. Deciphering what’s real or not is difficult in the haze of a blizzard. Such bitter cold clamping down on my chilled, sweat-covered skin. I know I’m cold, but the numbness has prevented me from feeling it. I’m robbed of the sensation of sanity; robbed of the knowing. What defines me is the same that confuses me.

         Remembrance is my only wish. Am I quoting myself? Or a girl I used to be? I mock myself with my overprotective barriers. My dreams are controlled; my thoughts regulated. My subconscious seems to be protecting me, attempting to preserve my sanity. I suppose my subconscious didn’t get the memo- I lost my mind seven years ago when the core of my innocence was questioned. The accuser? Myself.