It always starts off slow. Eyes glassy from holding back tears, taking measured breaths in an attempt to slow my pounding heart. The burn that spreads across my chest.
I never asked for the moon and the stars, just a hand to hold and someone who would choose me. But the wrong people can make the simplest things feel like the most mystical treasures from the farthest, most unreachable corners of the galaxy. I am your prodigal daughter screaming into your perfectly crafted void.
You gave me this voice, why does it only echo?
How many times had you seen me cry myself to sleep? I always felt you there but completely silent. Neither condemning nor comforting.
I thought I had done everything right but my existence feels like punishment. If I was made to love and be loved why do you see fit to have me be alone? Why was I made to be wasted?
Everyone has this fairytale lens in which they see you. If I fold my hands respectfully, ask politely, and click my heels three times; I’ll be granted my heart’s desires simply because I believed. But even when I was younger I never wanted to see you as merely the granter of wishes. I wanted to trust that you knew what was best for me.
But recent years have pulled out a fight in me that I would have thought unimaginable in my youth. I never once had the delusion that my life would be easy, but this prolonged and painful struggle has left me fragile and exhausted in ways I’m normally too embarrassed to admit.
Over and over I had to endure horrible mistreatment by those who had once been closest to me. Everyone who engages in this abusive pattern of behavior seems exempt from Karma. I miss the days when kindness was an even exchange. Now I create it just to give it away. My biggest regret was that I didn’t move on fast enough. Surely my lesson cannot be to isolate myself, but to go on fighting feels hopeless. I have all too often had to muddle through those dark days when the nicest person was often a stranger.
So here again I stand, trying to pull the daggers from my heart.
You gave me this will, why does it push me from you?
You gave me this heart, why does it crack so easily?
You gave me all this love, which I am unable to contain, yet has no route to take.
I know you don’t play favorites. I just wanted to feel like I mattered. Like this suffering has a purpose.
My eyes glassy from holding back tears, taking measured breaths in an attempt to slow my pounding heart. The familiar burn that spreads across my chest.
I am your prodigal daughter standing on the edge of your perfectly crafted void.
