The Little Girl

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. She was a normal little girl, just like any other little girl, and she could have grown up to be anything she wanted. She could have been the president or an astronaut or a singer or a poet or an aquatic marine biologist, but she didn’t become any of those things. She became a pale and ghostly shell of a woman. Why did this happen? How could this happen? Fate is a lottery, and she got the black ball. The little girl’s father loved children the wrong way, and the little girl’s mother was strung out on drugs and still a child herself, and it never occurred to anyone to help the little girl’s spirit stay alive. Then the little girl’s parents divorced, and the mother remarried, and the little girl’s stepfather had an affinity for yelling, and he made her feel like Cinderella, but she never found her prince. The little girl’s stepbrother used her to practice being with women, and the little girl’s body grew up too quickly. Later, the little girl acted grown-up, and did grown up things like drinking and sex when she was still a little girl, and when the little girl moved out of her family’s house she fumbled in the real world, because life is hard on grown-up children, and she couldn’t handle it. She had never learned coping skills, and had never learned to love herself. She let men use and abuse her in the worst kinds of ways, but she turned everything in on herself, and hated herself for being who she had come to be. She did self-destructive things like excessive sex and drinking and overeating and mutilating herself, and the men she ended up with didn’t respect her and her body. She sometimes had to go to the clinic for infections, and twice she got pregnant, but had miscarriages, which she blamed on herself. When the little girl was almost twenty-one, she found herself crying on the phone, begging her on-again-off-again boyfriend not to leave her, and he told her she was a child and she cried and she was mad and they hung up, but she knew in her heart he was right, and the little girl got on her blog, and decided to type out her feelings, and she hoped that on that day she could begin to gather all the healing energies that she missed all those years, and do seventeen years of growing up in as short amount of time as possible, because the little girl knew that she needed to be a woman soon, whatever it took to get there. Tom Petty–God it’s so painful when something that’s so close is still so far out of reach.

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