Where can one begin a tale, so harrowing, full of pain, that none should ever hear?  At the beginning one may properly assume, but why not the end?  Here is my tale, which I will share with you now.  Where tears flow and hearts are ripped away.  I am but a child, yet I know more than you could ever know.  See more than normal eyes should ever see.  Done things, that never should be thought of.

            Here I lay, upon the ground and am curled up wishing to die.  The grass beneath my limp body is wet with the sticky dew of morning as tears well up in my eyes.  I cry now for all the things that have happened, everything that will happen, and everything that is happening now.  My body shudders as exhaustion takes me for I have not slept in so long a time that I cannot remember when my head touched a pillow last.  Breathing slowly and forcefully as I fight to stay awake, I try to remember all that has happened in my life.  Trying to think of the good times and forget the bad, but it is impossible to forget something that is a part of you.  As I lay here, I look up at the sky before my vision clouds and fades into darkness.

*           *            *            *            *

            It was an unusually warm day in the beginning of spring as I walked through the streets of my little town.  Such a quiet little town this was so many years ago.  Everyone was your friend and nothing ever seemed to be wrong or dangerous.  But like all good things, change takes hold and pulls you with it.  This is what happened to me.  My life was filled with total bliss then it changed drastically.  I was young and this girl who was my best friend in the entire world, met another girl.  My friend, Eryani, lived just around the corner from me so we saw each other every day.  After she made her new friend, we hardly went to play in the park or even talked in school.  Soon, she drifted out of my life forever, like the setting of the sun.  Her new friend, Caltrine, was quite popular and decided that I was not good enough to be friends with.  She turned my only and best friend on me.  I was teased day in and day out because of my stature, because I was not part of their bamaia. 

            I learned early on, that if you don’t have the newest things, or the finest stitched robes, you were seen as different.  Many people did not like different people so I was cast out on my own.  I was teased throughout my early childhood for my differences for I became a quiet child, not loud like I used to be.  Closed up I remained for so long until it was clear I had made another lifetime friend who I prayed would never hurt me like Eryani did.  She was Virantali, the daughter of my grandmother’s good friend.  We were so similar, quiet, shy, and friendless.  The only problem was that we lived too far away and went to different schools.  I would have loved to go see her more often, but it was not possible. 

            During my early years in school, the masters thought I was quite smart for I learned quickly and loved what I was doing.  I had such passion but now it is spent.  That passion for learning remains, but different, always different.  In those years, the torment I felt was beyond everything I would ever dream of.  The pain from their words left scars only known by my heart and the pain from their lashings remain on my body until now.  Too many years I’ve been living this hell, too many times I wished it would end, too many times I’d prayed that I’d be saved.

            Around the time when I became an adept in school, the torment became so bad; that I was forced to leave the one school I loved more than anything and the master that taught me that writing was to be my passion for life.  I felt that I would be free of all the torment, but alas, I was wrong again.  The pain followed me, as did the scars and tears.  Not many times arrived when I did not feel that I hated school for only there was pained.  I both loved and hated school by then and it stayed with me until now.  I love it for I will always want to learn, but I hate it because of the many memories I’ve tried to suppress. 

            As I reached the point in my schooling career when I would leave the pain of my adept years, I rejoiced.  My parents who were the most precious to me of all, traveled to the separate ends of the earth, and forced themselves away.  My life shattered once more.  My father, the man I loved and hated, left my life, and did not see him much more after this.  My mother, had found someone she could live her life more happily with, an older man, whom I cared not for.  I still don’t.  This became a time in my life when I never knew if I was right or wrong for I never knew what was going on.  Things happened that I wish I could forget, too painful to remember, too harrowing to relate.  Never in all my life would I wish this on anyone, but for me, I have suffered like no one should have to suffer. 

            In my older years, when I was going for my mastery of the learning arts, fell things happened to me.  My grades, which were always high, fell after the affair with my parents and the introduction of the new husband into my life.  Nothing I did was right any longer; pain was felt more often at home than anywhere else.  Fights never ceased around me as I was blamed for the cause.  All I did was pray for it to end, get high enough grades to become an apprentice and leave this sad tale of my life closed and forgotten.  Sadly, I did reach that point.  I made my apprenticeship yet failed, oh I failed so much that I wish I never had to relive that pain again.  I became the failure I never wished to be, working wherever I could so that I could one day be able to leave. 

            After so many years of friendship, living through thick and thin, the most painful thing happened.  The best friend I loved like my own sister, left my life, never to return.  Our views changed for when she became older, she changed.  I was still that quiet shy girl, and she broke out of her shell.  She was wild, free, and doing everything I was against.  It truly showed that we belonged to different bamaia’s.  She was higher than me, always was, always will be.  It ended badly, but it doesn’t matter, too much has happened to me already that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

            I am different than most people for I don’t dream.  I have seen too many things in my life such as deaths and pain that would happen to me.  To dream a death is the horrible, to dream a death that happens, is the worst thing in the world.  This has happened to me three times, and all ended up happening.   Being able to see these things may be considered as a gift, but it is not, I assure you.  The gods may have seemed to bless me, this is true, but it is but a curse.  I am cursed to know some things that should remain unknown.  I do not want to know the next time someone close to me will die. 

            Nothing more passes through my mind other than I have suffered more strife than most people, known things that one should never know and seen things that should not be seen.  I have watched my mother suffer though a horrible disease and fight back again as I am told that I may get it.  I have lived through the abuse, which has caused such emotional and physical scars from children long ago.  I still suffer from the depression, which holds me from the memories of a certain time in my life, which remains unsaid.  Where days were spent in fear and I could not tell a single soul.  Talking may have helped ease my pain but it cannot save me now. 

*           *            *            *

I lay here, upon the dew stained grass, staring at the dawning sky, with no life left in me.  Pain gnaws at my entire being and blood flows from my listless form.  Life was too hard for me to handle, too many challenges that I met and failed.  Things I wish I could have been free from were a constant battle with my emotions.  I stray out of the darkness and the thoughts flowing though my mind.  I see the blood coursing down my body and I cannot stay the drops.  I must let them flow; let them leave my body to achieve something greater than I know I will ever find. 

Lying here, I remember where I am, even with the pain ravaging through my body.  I am in the cemetery just outside the little town where I grew up beneath the headstone of someone I don’t know.  I lay there, disturbing their peace with my blood and my story.  I struggle a little and force myself to see whom I was burdening with my harrowing presence.  The name is weathered away, yet the words remain, seemingly etched deep enough to withstand anything the world threw at it.  The words themselves made tears stream down my face and my breath came short with the effort to remain calm.  Darkness was swirling around me again yet no thoughts came to me.  I slumped back down to the ground as my heart laboured with the effort to keep beating.  The last thing I saw, before I fell into my endless sleep were the words on the stone. 

“Hope has not forsaken you, nor will it ever.

Pray and you shall be delivered,
           And never give up without a fight.”

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