Chapter 1 : Emptiness
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Iím always put down. Treated like Iím nothing. Everybody thinks I have the perfect life. The perfect smile they see everyday. The perfect twinkle in my eyes. Iím not what I perceived to be, thatís what they donít know. Iím not that happy-go-lucky girl everyone sees from day to day. Iím not her. Iím someone different. Someone no one has ever met or seen, or heard about.
Like a little girl in a dark room, sometimes I just want to curl up into a little ball. All I wanna do is curl up into a little ball. Iíve tried my hardest to get people to understand me.
Of who I really am.
Of who I really want to be.
I want to be heard. I want to be understood. I want to be listened to. I want to be loved. You canít give me material possessions for I have no care for those. What would I need of objects that I canít keep forever?
Because they break.
They wear out.
Like my heart.
The one thing Iíve kept dear. The one thing I took care of and guarded all my life. I regret ever thinking that someone will eventually take care of it for me. That someone will protect it. I regret ever giving it to a stranger who knew how fragile it was and yet was careless about it. I regret having one in the first place. For as long as I can remember I have to tried not to care for things not worth caring for. I have tried not to let the outside world crush my little dreams as a child. But trying so hard to avoid everything, I never realized one obvious fact. And that I regret. In order no to care at all the one thing I have to dismiss is the one thing Iíve treasured.
But how can I let something so precious and so fragile to just disappear? Itís not that easy, I know. But what do I care now?
What good is a heart so cold to the world of a lonesome girl?
Itís already been battered.
Put to shame.
And let down.
I canít take care of it anymore. I canít take care of me anymore. I donít know how. I thought I did but I was wrong. Like the many times Iíve thought. Everything has been so hard. So awful. With every crisis going on in the world I havenít had the time for anything but cry. To shed tears seems so weak. But what else can I d? Thatís the only way I can get rid of this heavy burden that God has weighed on my shoulders. I cry for the starving children.
For the people mourning.
For the people who had died.
Thatís my fault. For having a heart so caring and understanding I feel everything. I feel hurt. I feel shame. I feel the world. Such a burden weighed would have killed even the strongest man alive. Physically and emotionally. So why havenít I shriveled up and gone to waste? Iíve thought about it, yes, but never really put it into action. I guess I was afraid.
Afraid of what awaits me in the world beyond this life.
Afraid that whatever is there waiting for me isnít happy with what Iíve done in the short time I had on earth.
Afraid that I was just a waste of breath that isnít worth anything for.
Afraid of me.
So many things to think about and yet nothing can satisfy the question Iíve clouded my mind with. So now, as I sit in the dark, alone in the world, I as myself, ďIs it worth it?Ē A question filled with multiple answers still left unsolved. Like my life. This Ö.. is my life.
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