There once was a girl who began after many, many years to find what happiness looked like. She began learning that despite the fact there was so much darkness she could find peace within it. She began seeing differences and for the first time began understanding the cost of all her dreams.
She saw the difference between a moment and a memory. She saw the difference between the sadness of a normal life and the excruciating understanding of a diseased life. She learned that happiness was a force pushed only by her small hands and she learned that no matter how much she wished otherwise there was no one to save her when she needed it the most. She learned that sacrifice was required to be who and what she was and she learned that there would always be those who would hate her for it.
She learned that devastation could come easily and leave just as fast; and she learned that heartache could last a lifetime. She learned that there was no escape from the reality of her life and she learned that there was no reason to seek it. She learned and she learned until finally one day someone smiled at her and said hello.
The price of her dreams of happiness was dependent on others, despite her own acknowledgement of the horror of this. She felt deeply, blamed herself easily, and surrounded herself with people that took her happiness and systematically destroyed it for their own gain. She surrounded herself by selfishness because she once believed that was all she deserved. She surrounded herself with those who would need someone helpless by their side so they could feel happy.
And she learned that it didn’t matter if she understood; it only mattered that she understood herself. And when she began looking for herself she lost more than she thought she would gain. Those around her, those in the business of happiness, would show her that one ounce of happiness was worth more than the loss of her past. One second of the light was more powerful than the darkness she was so used to.
She had spent her life believing that she was not worthy. So she gave herself permission to feel. She believed that she was not loved, so she gave herself permission to dream about it. She believed that she was nothing, so she surrounded herself with people who needed that from her. She purposely surrounded herself with those who let her get away with being selfish, with being not loved, with wallowing in darkness. And she did it because that was how she was taught to be.
The lessons she would learn in life would tell her something different. It would never erase the feelings, the worthiness of her and her life, and it would never allow her the freedom so many others enjoy. But the lessons would give her the one thing she had never had: hope. The lessons taught her what hope looks like.
She died today without learning the final lesson. She died today without giving herself a way back; and while she will return she will never be the same after it all. There was no happy ending; but there was no beginning. Simply a continual journey that easily changed what she thought was important and what she learned never could be.
There once was a girl who went on a journey and died each day in order to finally learn about the beauty deep within herself. And when she returns she will began the lesson and the road to death once again.