I used to believe in fairytales; Life was simple then, and even though bad things happen in fairytales, I was so much happier believing in them.
I used to believe that what goes around comes around; I now tend more to lean toward what goes around stays there. And what comes around comes around again to kick you while you’re down.
I used to spend my days smiling and my nights crying. I don’t cry any more. Maybe I was happier when I did. Somewhere along the way I ran out of tears. Now I’m trapped, with no way to let the pain of life run down my face and leave my pillow a little damp.
I used to pick myself up when I fell; strangely I’ve been finding comfort in feeling the earth under my body and just lying there, longing to feel the pulse.
I used to fight off the numbing feeling. Now, to be numb is all I know.
I used to dream of things wonderful and impossible. I believed that someday I would find an adventure that took up the rest of my days. That adventure was life, and it was not as colourful as I was lead to believe. Rather bleak really, setting into a monotonous schedule.
I used to be timid and gentle. Compassion for the sad souls I saw around me would drown my heart. Along my journey I became afraid. Scared of heartache and terrified of trusting anyone to get close to me. Fear of being caught vulnerable ever again. This fear and hurt mixed in my heart, and made me angry. Shocked by the growing fury I withdrew into myself. Till all the fear was gone, now I was just angry. Anger works only with one other emotion, and his name is hate. How did these two take over my life?
I used to think I was strong. But like a cancer spreading, these dark forces slowly ate away at everything I thought I was as a person. They took away my trust and beliefs. They left me as a fading shadow on the wall, there is no longer any detailing of the heart I once had. Just the outline of a girl I vaguely remember, a whisper of the beliefs I used to stand for, an echo of a lost soul.