![]() If I Were A StoryA Story by Corza![]() If I were to write my own story, it would probably go something like this...![]() If I were in a book, you might start my story like this: “Once, there was a girl, born the youngest child of a large and loving family.” You wouldn’t be wrong to start there, with my birth, with the mention of the fact I was often surrounded by love growing up. But for most of my life, nothing really changed. The story, as you start it, would continue much like this: “She grew up in her happy little world, playing baseball in the backyard in the summers, going to church every Sunday, learning to see the magic in the world around her, and in books.” Nothing real exciting there, as I said. A picture of a happy childhood. A childhood where I didn’t see myself as as lonely as I was. Where other kids wouldn’t talk to me, adults would. Where I rarely went over to friends houses, I always had a book at my side. But one day, my story would have to change. Maybe you’d choose something like this: “When she was in sixth grade, she started going to private school, and first really learned what it was like to be alone.” But that’s not really how it went. That’s not really the whole story. A closer version would be: “In middle school, her happy world was shattered when she found out her sister had been sexually abused.” That’s a bit closer to it, but I think the most accurate way you could say it would be something along the lines of: “By the time she was in middle school, she had built herself a happy little world all of her own, and found she had forgotten to build into it a door.” Because that’s what I found I had. A world of my own devising, but no one else could see in, and I didn’t know how to get out. There were some who did their best, throwing rocks tied with messages over the edge, and that was good. We could communicate like that. I’d learn how to climb the bricks, making it to the top to where I could see over the edge, to see the smiling faces that were there, waiting for me. But I never dared climb over the other side, because what else I saw frightened me to bits. There was a scary world out there, full of pain I didn’t want to feel. Joys I could only dream of, but every joy was paired with a sorrow. Sure, in my lonely little world, nothing was as happy, but nothing was as sad, either. I thought I could live like that, but as the days went on, the walls crumbled down around me. Things got in without me meaning them to. Bright friendships that ended far too soon. People started showing up, some I wanted, some I didn’t, but my world wasn’t a haven anymore. It was a trap. With everything I thought I knew crumbling around me, my only choice was to get out, to go through the door into the big scary world. To go forth into the unknown, where monsters and demons lurked in the shadows, where angels would hold you, but disappear while still in your arms. If I cling to you, remember this: You are an angel to me. If my grip is so tight it almost hurts, it just means I’m afraid to lose you, it means I need to be reminded that you are real, that you are here for me. If I reach out to you with an open hand, take it, please, and remind me of the happiness I lost somewhere along the way. In this great big world, my new safe haven is built of the people I surround myself with. The smiles and laughter and tears that we share together. Each one another stone, another light, to keep the monsters and demons at bay. © 2012 Corza |
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Added on December 27, 2012 Last Updated on December 27, 2012 Author![]() CorzaORAboutYoung woman, budding author, lover, fighter, friend. Bout sums me up, I think. more..Writing
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