Cravings

Her entire life she craved being real. She prayed that one day she could be herself without fear of judgment or rejection, but she knew that it was inevitable. Truth is, she hid herself well. She was careful about who she let in and how much they truly saw of her.

Broken. She was completely and utterly broken, but of course she couldn't let them see that. She grew up being told not to let people know what was going on in her head and that stuck with her.

At thirteen years old, she struggled to hide the cuts on her wrists and plastered a fake smile on her face. She acted as if nothing was wrong, but between you and I, she felt dead inside. How? How was she able to feel dead inside at such a young age? Your guess is as just as good as mine. At first, she never truly understood how someone could intentionally hurt themselves, but it soon became her escape. It became a way to cope and feel everything and anything all at once. It became her first craving.

Her cravings were there and they followed her everywhere. She found herself needing it at school, work, even when she was in the car with friends, but as she transitioned from this young timid girl to a blossoming young woman, she craved more things.

At sixteen years old, the scars haunted her. She did everything in her power to make them go away, she never stopped fulfilling her cravings, but she tried. She fought like hell. It was one of her strongest personality traits. She was a fighter. She never gave up even though she'd think about it frequently, she never gave in to one of the strongest cravings she'd ever had..

Suicide. It was seen as something that was selfish, but she thought that mere idea was ridiculous. She'd often found herself believing that the world would be better off without her and her family would benefit more from her being gone rather than fighting through everything. So, how could it be selfish? She thought of giving in, but she couldn't. She labeled herself as a fighter and a fighter is what she would be.

She's now twenty years old and she looks back at that scared, timid girl and wishes that someone would have paid more attention. She was a terrified little girl trapped not only in her own body, but in her head too. She realized that she now craved something different. It wasn't quite morbid as self harm or suicide, but somewhat innocent. She craved someone who looked at her and knew that the person she was pretending to be was all a facade.

She craved love so deep that someone could tell she was faking it until she made it. It was an unfamiliar feeling to know that one of her cravings wasn't self mutilation of any sort, and she didn't know where to go with her craving. This was something that was totally out of her control and she hated to be out of control. The simple fear of not knowing what the universe held for her or her future was something that created chaos inside of her.

The storm within her skin had stirred up many emotions:

Anger.

Resentment.

Hope.

But most of all, she was afraid. It's been eight months and she could sense that a relapse would happen soon. I wish I could say that she "walked without fear of the future," but anyone who truly knew her, knew that all she did was fear what was yet to come.