I Once Knew A Little Girl

I once knew a little girl, but she wasn't so little.

You see, she wore short skirts and crop tops and gold hoop earing that screamed hoochie mama.

She walked on six-inch nails and engraved her face with society's new trend every other week.

She thought these new trends would make her new friends but her new friends? Were far from friends, they were called Anxiety, Depression, and PTSD.

Anxiety was lovely, she would visit her in the dead of the night with a platter of worries, regrets and reminisce on a friend she used to have named happy. I say used no not in the definition of newly used, or like that slightly used lipstick your mom always tries to give to you because its "just not her color". I say used in the definition meaning like a one-time use disposable sanitary wipe.

Depression.

Depression held her down in bed, like a majestic bird whose wings were cut...but not cut like how we cut birds out in kindergarten but cut like her heart aches to feel the wind, cut like she took her wings for granted and now a part of her is missing she thought would never be gone. 

PTSD, or commonly known for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

What a beautiful name, a name which perforated her brain making her think she was insane from al her nightmares and scary dreams. She hates sleeping alone, it reminds her that PTSD can walk in at any given time and say hello. PTSD gives her presents and gifts but not the sorta gifts we grew up receiving. Gifts that left her scared from her ankles to her elbows, gifts that awake her in a night sweat and sleep paralysis, gifts nobody would want to receive. 

I once knew a little girl but she wasn't so little, as time gracefully continued to add to her age this little girl I once knew sprouted out to just whom she need.

Reviews

[Robin Saxon]

This is a great, I love the line 'New trends would make new friends' and its subsequent follow on, very powerful. There is an underlining feeling of deep sadness threading its way through these words, hopefully with a happy (ish) ending.

I thought 'Valentines Day' was an interesting piece as well full of pain and anguish. This particular line from that poem 'You taught me how to live again, be me again, but it wasn't me who i became. I got doused in a pool of you and when i dried i had some stains left' is as meaningful as it gets. The idea that when we remove ourselves from someone else there is always a part of that person that remains, is intense. Excellent writing.

[Sierra]

Thank you so much for read! I just recently found this website and everyone here in so encouraging. Thanks again!