A glimmer of something special

It wasn’t often she found herself in a state she could not navigate her way out of. Past times had better prepared her than most for what lay ahead. Or at least that’s what she thought. Her troubled childhood and reckless adolescence had taught her that fear was a friend, enemies could become friends and friends never lasted that long anyway. She often found it easier to just be on her own; no messing and very little to concern her outside her own world.

Obviously she saw people, random associates that thought they knew more than they actually did about what made her tick. They made their own assumptions and she went with it, every person crafting their own version of her dependent upon their preferences. Family thought they knew her, but the snapshot they often saw was one of wildness and abandonment. Very rarely did the real person shine through and when it did, when she became vulnerable, few understood the mentality. Few could get to grips with the confusion she felt, the internal war she waged with herself and the captivating glow that hid itself deep within her, yearning for the time and place.

Occasionally, just occasionally her true self shone through, and she would question herself, her time and place in this world and her ability. If she couldn’t see it of herself, then she wouldn’t let others assume that it was a possibility either.

Most people didn’t struggle through life like she did, they didn’t torment themselves with the what if’s and hows. They lived a simple life, uncomplicated and for that reason alone; complete. They assured themselves this was it and that that in itself was enough to make them happy. That their containment of themselves was their only way to be sure that life just was that good, in their own bubble away from everything there was. All that there was to find, all that there was to know. She couldn’t feel like that, but so often she wished she could.

How content she’d feel knowing that the world was as far as her eyes could see and no further. That dreams were just dreams – that they didn’t mean anything. That the people she encountered in life weren’t there to challenge her, to connect with her, to speak to her.

Sometimes she felt that the place she best belonged was in a box on anti-depressants, just waiting for the day when she could accept that life was as it appears. There is no point wishing, no point observing, no point questioning, no point giving a damn.

She was getting closer. Her confidence had wavered so much so that a point of view was no longer a concern of hers. Taking a stand for something she believed in meant nothing. And slowly bit by bit, life made her its bitch. It had taken so many things from her, a love for life, a vibrant and excited outlook, before she knew it her memory was fading, her ability to connect with people had disappeared and her love for life, her sheer joy for all things faded. Before she knew it she had become one of those people she swore she’d never be.

But she wasn’t content, she still felt the war waging inside of her, she still felt the roar for something great, but every time it rose to the surface, she told it to simmer down. Until she realised, she realised that what she was missing, what she loved, was everything about herself she’d lost. And that she couldn’t stand for that any longer.