There she is with paper and pen, trying to think of ways to let people in. With such a complexed mind it’s hard to even think of the time. The time where she first became defined, the time where she first lost her mind. With so many walls up you would think she went to hell and back. She did, the deepest darkest part of hell in her mind. Growing up people didn’t realize the toll it took, or the many different ways her brain began to operate. When you’re told lies from the first time you opened your eyes, to the last time you seen the devil in disguise. She went from being that young always happy girl, to the one that stopped giving her hair a twirl. Day by day she was dying inside. No one thought about it, but just tossed it aside. Years go by and she tries to figure out why. No one ever told her she grew up believing every lie, that’s when the pain became intensified. She waited for it to subside, yet only felt more and more dead inside. It came to be she wasn’t remembering, her only defense mechanism. If she felt a certain way, heard the tone in a voice that she always wanted to go away. She blocked it out, no one could hurt her that way. Now she’s an adult, she’s got so many feelings and not a clue on how to let them out. She never learned to talk it out, only that her emotions didn’t matter..without a doubt. She has always been one of the pretty girls, even in high school. It went unnoticed when her hair was no longer ever in a twirl. The fire within her died, she tried her best to feel alive. Coping skills in every direction..drugs, anorexia, she even turned to cutting, just to feel something. There was such a thrill that gave her a chill. Seeing her blood spill gave her hope that something was real. Years went by and her self destruction only progressed. Between the booze mixed with narcotics, she thought she might’ve faded her psychotics. Without recognition she took more controlled substances, a whole bottle down. There wasn’t a thought in her mind to be found, she blacked out. A day later she woke up in a psychiatric unit, “Where the hell am I?!” She thought out loud. She didn’t want to be, she felt annoyed that she wasn’t left alone for the pills to have complete control of her body. Bruises on her skin, restraints after she was brought in. Scared heartbroken people around her, they just wanted to save her. She didn’t want to be saved, she was tired of all the pain she’s always had to hide. She just wanted to die, there was no sparkle left in her eye. Her skin was as pale as it’s ever been. She felt as if she was a zombie, questioned if she was even breathing. After she felt more human she began to explore the place she woke up in. The walls were blank, the beds felt like a plank. When she met the other people, she knew she was nothing like them. She didn’t see what wasn’t there, or hear voices. All she ever wanted was relief from damage that had been done. Whether it was a quick slice of her skin with the end of a pen, or denying a meal to listen to her stomach squeal. She wanted control of herself, she wanted to ease the pain and not feel so insane. Her suicide attempt made her mind so deranged. The thoughts of being alive, yet wanting to commit suicide. She never had hope or ambition. Before she woke up in the psychiatric unit, she thought she really blew it. What type of hurt and bottled up emotions would cause such a chain reaction, to be so low that you feel like absolutely nothing. Internal scars are reminders that she is alive. As alive as she will ever be. She asks for you to be patient, as she’s still trying to let the past be. A woman with such a great heart, has lived a life that wasn’t off to the best start. She’s grown now, she’s built barriers around herself. She is no longer young, or put on a shelf. She protects her complexed mind, she is divine.
– Rita Gabriiel