In the corner she will hide. Her head sits firmly between her lies. She tells herself to be strong in this new place, to swallow this pain, to stand up and move out of this hole shes in. She curls up in a quiet spot behind her walls of black stone. She wants only to be known, to be loved. But who can love you when you do not love yourself. Who can understand what only she could know, what she sees everyday in her head. The terrible truth of her existence. The black hole sun shining behind her eyes. The big secret she keeps. She is the product of her darkest fears. Who is she to be any better than she has ever been. She hardens her heart, and tucks away her pain, to start a new day again.

Where are the trumpets that were blowing, the hands that kept her heart from slowing? Who created this place?

Is pain the only thing she knows? Is this fear all that this soft heart can remember?

Is this what she sees when shes all alone in the dark. The residual shadows on her wall. They whisper in her ear and call her name. She closes her eyes and sinks away into this oblivion that is what she What she breathes, eats and sleeps in.

Where were the hands that were supporting her when she was down in this dark place? Where were the cherubim she believed in when she cried on the floor? Where were the good hearts when she was locked alone, cold and frightened in this darkened doom of a room. So young, this child of darkness was so lost. Could she have know something better than this place?

No, she was her own keeper, she was all she knew, her pain was all she had to live on. And now this little girl inside these walls of stone will die.

-A young heart broken

I look back on these past events with something of a detachment. This aides in my separation of reality and memory, thought and time, pain and pleasure. Maybe if I reconstruct my past the way I remember it it will become a new memory and then i will better be able to pick it apart and truly place any guilt or anguish I might still be harboring where it belongs, behind me. I find myself relishing in making myself miserable with my screwed up perception of my memories. Some things can never go away and some feelings never die. My memories are my life and the way my life plays out is determined by how I perceive these memories. Theres a serious discrepancy to the way I react to certain stimuli when reminded of a time never lost and how i wish my life to be layed down. I can remind myself consistently that this is not my fate, this is how we learn,how we grow, but it becomes impossible sometimes to forgive myself for these crimes of my past. Uncontiously i have actually condemned myself to less than what i deserve. Now for the first time I am safe enough in this place in my life to logically look back at the jumbled thoughts and memories that form my past and seriously break them apart into smaller more easily handled pieces. This is the beginning of the end of my ill-perceived pain.

I remember my fears as if I still have them. Maybe on some level I do, but this is only because they are now memories and memories have a strange way of popping up in unconvienient circumstances.

Do we really create our own fate? Or is it created for us and we chose to screw it up?

I at one time tried to train myself to be cold hearted. I delved into dark things and convinced myself not to care about anyone or anything. This was an unfortunate but nonetheless fairly effective tactic i used to detach myself enough to not feel the pain i was so accustomed to feeling. The problem with this mindset was that it only worked for short amounts of time. Because it took a substantial amount of energy to uphold this reverie, it would exhaust me. Then, when left to my own soft heart, I was truly afraid of the feelings and thoughts I had created. The evil I drew to me while I was angry, did not wax or wane. It took hold of the most sensitive parts of my being and twisted them apart. So in effect, what i used to cure my pain, inevitably made it worse.

I would spend these nights alone under my covers shaking with fear in the face of the monster I'd created. The beast i had hand fed to sustain this false sense of peace. Then, in a sense, i became a prisoner in my own mind and heart. Because I was not truly cold-hearted, i was vulnerable to attack from the very things I'd invited into my life! Now this was a dilemma i needed to get out of!

I remember situations in my life where i felt as if i wasn't really living it. When i say this I am reminded of a song that Josh showed me. Its by pavement and the line goes: “You've been chosen as an extra in the movie adaptation of the sequel to your life”. I had detached myself so much from reality that living was actually like sitting back and watching a movie about me.