I am a Scared Little Girl

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Once upon a time there lived a lovely, yet very lonely, broken-hearted little girl. She had green eyes that sparkled when she smiled and red hair to match her feisty attitude. But the one thing that set her apart from all the other pretty faces was her heart.

You see for several years this girl was searching desperately for one thing or at least searching for proof of its existence. The one thing she had always believed to be the greatest treasure of all. Love.

From the day this girl was born she was taught that there is good in everyone, people just need love. Good eventually prevails and people always start out with the best of intentions. She continued believing these beautiful fantasies until her sixteenth year. The year was like a loss of innocence for her, like being force-fed the forbidden fruit. Almost like the wool was violently ripped from over her eyes.

Gradually she began noticing that the skies were greyer than she remembered, and friends were a little more secretive than before. Her life was slowly appearing to be a lie. Frantically she reached out to grasp a hand to hold, only to discover that she was completely alone. Those closest to her were too busy or had chosen to pursue earthly thrills and deceit, betraying her for temporary highs. All she had wanted was love and acceptance. The vivid colors of her wonderful world melted from her photographs and turned to dull black and grey.

Instead of beauty, this frightened little girl saw only pain, hate, greed, lust, deception, and suffering. Tears streamed steadily from her eyes and even from the cracks in her broken heart. Slowly the worlds’ cast of evil began to seep into the easily influenced girl’s mind. Her hair grew more intense red with the pain she endured each day; her sparkly green eyes darkened to conceal the mistrust and hurt she had inside. However, the evil could not penetrate the little girl’s heart, for her morals remained unaltered. No matter what misfortune came upon that lonely girl she could not accept that something as pure, wonderful and yearned for as love, was a lie. Not everyone had only hate, not everyone was only self-seeking, not everyone told only lies. There had to be other lonely hearts searching for the same thing she was. Others, who know, no matter how bad the circumstances seemed, knew there was always hope.

Someone who realized the self-medication only goes far enough to temporary numb, not heal, the pain inside. Someone who, like the teary-eyed, confused little girl, wanted to find unconditional love. The love that never judges, only accepts, is never self-seeking and rejoices in an others happiness.
The girl remembered the story of Pandora and her box. What most people forget about this fable is, after all the pain and evil escaped from the box, there was still hope left at the bottom. Hope for a bright and multi-colored future. Hope to love and be loved. Hope for her heart to mend and for the aching loneliness to slowly fade away.

Some time later…

Deep inside her shell, the lonely little girl with the once sparkly green eyes is still hurting. Again and again, she allows love to throw her heart back at her. The strand of hope she had once grasped so firmly is beginning to fray and soon will break. It is becoming apparent that unconditional love, like all the other childhood fantasies, is also a lie. The broken-hearted girl thought to herself, “Whats the downside of death if living hurts this bad? Why does happiness seem within grasp, only to be unreachable in the end.”

The scared little girl’s green eyes overflowed with tears. She thought in agony of the joy she once believed love would bring her. In turn, it only made her feel desperation and sadness. The little girl looked at the sky above her. Dark clouds were forming soon the sky would also cry out its rain on the world. She whispered a prayer as a frantic last hope, “God please show me the answer, my missing piece. I now know I cannot do this on my own.” The lonely little broken-hearted little girl is me. I’m still waiting for my answer.

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