Sunday, March 7, 2010


You can only do so much from above. No matter how much you wish you could do more, watching is all we have. I have watched her suffer, I’ve seen her cry for nights, days, weeks, and months on end. I’ve seen her desperate attempts to alleviate her pain. But only a temporary reprieve comes from her white powder. The devils morphine only numbs the pain enough for her to fall asleep. Waking up, again cause pain, the self inflicted kind, thought this matters not to her as any disguise for her real misery is seen as a godsend. Her sadness affects me, as well as her. I feel helpless, wanting to be her Savior, her knight in shinning armour if you like. Night after night I’ve watched her cry herself to sleep. She has lost all respect for herself. She cares not for anything, and feels she has nothing. She has me. She does not know of my existence, for to her and the world I do not exist. I wish I did. Some how I would find a way to cure her pain, abolish the memories that’s are killing her, the memories she cannot forgot, the memories I cannot forget. I long to touch her just once. Feel her gorgeous, cold, pale white skin, run my fingers through her silky, shinny, jet-black hair. I yearn to wipe her running make-up from her cheek. Tell her that I am here, and that I love her, and that it will be ok. I would hold her, care for her, and never leave her side, as I have never let her out of my sight. I was there the day her mother brought her into this world, and I was there when her mother was taken from hers. Her sister died while picking her up, a car accident, pronounced dead on the scene. Killed by the stupidity of a drunk driver. She could do nothing, pinned to the passenger seat as she watched her sister’s life fade in front of her own eyes. She blames herself for her sister’s death. She was meant to catch a cab that night, but she had no money, instead it cost her the life of her younger sister, age 17. Her mother had died 3 months prior, sudden case of breast cancer got the better of her, age 43.
Her Father left when she was 7, Her last memories of her father was him walking out the door, her mother crying on the floor holding her face from where he hit her. No one has heard from him since. The last memories of all her family are memories she’d rather forgot. These are the memories that haunt her day after day, the more time goes by the more broken she becomes. She’s like a time bomb just waiting to hit zero. Once upon a time she was a happy, vibrant young woman, in a past life it almost seems now. Her happy memories cease to exist. Pain and suffering is all she knows, and she knows not how to endure it. Drugs, alcohol… nothing works. Depression is her happiest emotion. It’s only down from there. She has nothing left. She left her hometown, in a hope to start again, but nothing ever started, she has lost contact with all her friends and her pain continues to get more severe. I want top help her, I want to be her antidote. Inside and out she is a shattered woman, behind all the memories, and all the tears there is perfection. I will never get to see it, nor will anyone else. She will continue to cry, to scream silently. To her, her life is over, she is just breathing. She didn’t have a choice on life, she was just born. She has a choice on death. Her life can end, or she can end her life. Inevitably, she will die depressed, devastated and broken. She will drown in her sorrow, and it will end in tears… She will, die in pain.
I cannot do a lot from above, as much as I wish… I can only watch… and wait.

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