A photograph captures the little girl. Her face round and soft, her eyes wide and deep, her hair brown, shoulder length, and flowing, lips rosy red. She is in her pajamas surrounded by her two sisters. They grin at their photographer, gripping mugs of hot chocolate. A single marshmallow awaits each taste. She smiles meekly. She is beautiful. The Christmas tree reaches proudly behind them. A fireplace glows with holiday spirit as it illuminates these children.

A Christmas Eve photo this is, no doubt, her eyes portray an inner sadness. Her eyes are so, so deep, they reflect her soul unknowingly. She will face many hurts, the poor child, and her eyes will stay the same. Every photo seizing her face, freezing her lovely lips, suspending her soul.

Does no one take me seriously?

No one takes me seriously.

I see who you are. I see your pictures. I see your name and who you've been to me. And yet I find only disgust in my heart. Where is this darkness from? It is from you. You created it. You fostered it. You didn't care enough to make it go away. And now you live your life, perfectly. And I live my life broken. Yet you are the one that gives me this. Gives me this heartache. This pain! Does that make you perfect? Indeed not. Indeed not!

Will I carry this forever? Would you even acknowledge your awfulness if it smacked you in the face? Should I smack you in the face? Does that scare you? It scares me. Hidden hurt swirls within my crevices. Marinating. It leaves me be until disturbed. Then it stabs, swirls, stabs, swirls... encompasses.

You have crippled me. I walk just fine now even though you punched me. But when that rain comes, oh that humid, dreadful rain, I feel that wound again and again. I search for my ground, arms out waving, eyes bewildered, stomach curdled.

Will I carry this forever? Will I? Carry this forever?

Friends?