The Girl in the Corner

 

I stare at the girl in the corner.  She stands aloof.  The bright red solo cup in her hand gives her a purpose if nothing more than to hold the cup.  Her blonde hair sweeps around her shoulders and falls softly on her slightly slumped shoulders.  She visibly straightens them back and holds her head up high.  For a moment she looks unshaken.  For just a second, one might assume that she is a strong woman who has it all together.  Her resume speaks for itself.  Accomplished business owner of multiple businesses, parent to two amazing and smart kids, a mentor to many others, a friend to all in need.  Her resume touts the strengths of independence and success in all that she has attempted.

So why do her eyes not match her resume.  Why do her blue green eyes tell a story of defeat and sadness to anyone allowed close enough to gaze in to their depths?  Is it because the resume is built upon the foundation of proving she is so much more than a victim?  Is it because her drive comes from something much deeper and darker?  Her drive comes from not wanting to be at anyone’s mercy ever again.  It is a much stronger drive than the need for power or success.  It is the need to survive.  Her resume has been built upon not wanting to let the world know that she could crumble at any moment.  That sometimes she feels like the young girl left to cry in the shower of scalding water she had hoped would wash away so many memories. 

No one sees that girl.  No one knows that this woman in her commanding black suit and royal blue blouse that demands respect hides a shattered heart and memories that have poisoned her chance for true happiness.  That’s the way she wants it.  That is the way it must be.

I stare at the girl in the corner who stares back from the mirror.