I Wear A Veil Of Black

For a long time I have felt as though there is a dark veil hiding me from the world: a darkness so strong no man can tear it apart. While I'm trapped behind this veil, someone else has taken control of my life. She may look like me and speak with the same voice, but her words are harsh, cold and unfeeling. She brings pain to those I love; she brings pain to me.

You can look into my eyes and see this dark hold, covering the life you can see within. In vain I fight...

Slowly the veil fades and I return again. Yet I'm not completely the same. Guilt fills me, guilt for what someone else has done. But like the scars on my arms that haunt me, I cannot erase the past. And so I must cope with the memories. Still I cope.

One day will come when I can move past all this. One day. Until then I will cling to hope after hope after... still hoping for something more than this. Something more than just living to live, just surviving to make it to the next day.

A clean slate?

As I write this, it's the beginning of January and all I see is covered with new fallen snow. Like the glistening snow, this new year signifies a new start: a blank canvas. Yet it's all an illusion. Underneath that vision of white is the same street, the same ground, the same life you had before. Instead of covering the parts of our lives that we aren't happy with, we should reshape them so come spring all we see is the beauty we want to be surrounded by.

We spend a lot of time and energy surrounding ourselves with things we find beautiful. Yet we allow ugly, toxic people into our lives so easily. Why? These people tear us down until we tear ourselves down.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said, "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." So why do we give consent? Why do we hand over control of our lives to someone else?

My Story

There are certain events in my life that have transpired in past few years that have made me who I am today. At times I would have labeled these events as traumatic or unfair, but I've grown wise enough to know that they happened for a reason. Maybe that reason was I needed to find my inner strength. Or maybe it's bigger than just me. I hope that I can use my story and my life to help others; first, my story must be told.

To tell my story is harder than it sounds. I don't know what the ending will be, I can't remember the really emotional parts and I'm extremely jaded when looking back at my past decisions. However that all doesn't really matter. What is important is that it's told, so that girls like myself know. After all, education is our most powerful ally. I believe that since I was ignorant of what was happening to me, it escalated into something no one should go through.

None of my words are meant to hurt. I simply feel I must be honest to move past this stage of my life. I know that a lot of this will be hard for me to write, but since I've made this decision, I feel compelled to write. This is the first time in years. That must mean something, right?