A long, long time ago, and very far away, there lived a little girl whose fairytale was taken away. My innocence stolen, the childhood happy-go-luckiness was gone. I have spent years upon years searching for it, in many different was, but I have never found the fairytale that was taken away.
My tale is more Grimm than Disney, but it has also made me who I am. At 7 years old, my fairytale ended and thus, my despair began. I was never the same person. I never felt like other people saw me as the same person. I felt like my identity wasn’t my own.
How could I be loved when people whisper about me? How could someone care about a broken little girl? How was I ever going to find a way to fix myself?
I put up walls. I built up layers. I made myself unlovable, like I thought I should be. I tried to find myself through art and poetry, but everything turned towards the darkness. The darkness that no one wanted to see. The darkness that was inside of me.
I tried to find myself by becoming someone else. The life of an actor seemed to be a great escape and I adored the theater so much. I did not find myself, but the pain was put on the back burner while I was on stage. When I wasn’t on stage, I was engulfed by the darkness. Finding anyway that I could to numb myself from the emotions that no one understood, including me.
I fought, I was suspended. I smoked and sold cigarettes out of my backpack. I carried a bottle of Hawaiian Punch with me that contained much more than the label implied. I skipped school and did drugs, anything to numb the pain.
My freshman year of high school, I lost my love, the stage. I tried out for the first play of the year and was laughed off the stage. I never returned, but the darkness did.
I ran away, like out-of-state. I committed grand theft auto and got charged with taking a minor across state lines. Anything to get away. I wanted a new life, a new identity, a new me, but that was never going to happen, so I had to deal with it.
I did the minimum in school. I broke the vice principal’s nose. I opted out of school, in favor of the work program and worked my way through.
I smoked, I drank, I did a lot of drugs. I tried on a lot of personas. Goth, Skater, Thug, but none of them suited me.
I had no dreams for my life anymore. I just kind of floated through. I wondered if it would ever end and I thought the sooner the better.
I made myself unlovable, the way I thought that I should be, but I was also very vulnerable and someone took advantage of me. I fell into the first relationship that I had been in and convinced myself that he loved me. Convinced myself that he cared when he stole my money. Convinced myself that he loved me when he left for days at a time. Convinced myself that he cared when he was stealing my medication. Convinced myself that he loved me when he hit me and convinced myself that he still cared when he was with other girls.
I finally realized that he did not love or care for me. That he was taking advantage of the fact that I was so broken, that I blindfolded myself to the truth. I finally got rid of him and realized that I had to do things on my own.
In an unexpected plot-twist, I was reunited with the prince! The boy that I had fawned over in Junior High, but knew that I wasn’t good enough for. We were reunited and I had to open myself up, just a little, so I could feel.
He was my knight in shining mustang and we have been together ever since we were reunited! He makes me feel loved. He makes me feel good. He still gives me goosebumps just like he always could.
I know I am a wife, a mother and I know that I am loved, but I am still that broken little girl inside and she will never go away.
A long, long time ago, and very far away, there lived a little girl whose fairytale was taken away. She’s still struggling, but she is happier now and her fairytale doesn’t seem as far away.
This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post. This week’s sentence is “A long, long time ago and very far away, there lived…” (or “There once lived…” or “A long time ago…” or similar – you get the idea).
Your hosts: Kristi, as always from findingninee.com and this week’s sentence-thinker-upper, Deborah from Life is Like a Hand Grenade.