She Suffered Beautifully

 

Yes, yes, this.  She suffered so beautifully that no one knew she was suffering. She was dying inside, and no one knew. She would smile, take care of everything she had to do, then cry herself to sleep, hoping things would be different for her tomorrow. There was a place somewhere inside of her that knew she deserved better, and she refused to let go.  So many times that 13-year-old girl would have given anything just to stop breathing, just make the pain and suffering that she felt disappear.  But still she held on.  How did she survive such brutality and keep her kind soul?  I ask myself that all the time, and all that I can tell you is that she noticed the little things. She had a spark that even in the blackest of black spaces, a part of her held on for dear life. In her suffering, she noticed the little bird out of the car window. In her sadness, she looked for rainbows.  In her pain, she made sure that others were safe. She always loved the little things in life, and that is what kept her going. No one cared to notice the sad girl who was in front of them; they blamed things like puberty and hormones. They blamed the girl who was different and noticed things that others didn't. They blamed the girl who had to grow up before her time and just pretended that everything was fine.  She had pretended her entire life, so being gang raped at 13 was no different for her. This was her life. This is what she was meant for: just keep breathing. Through it all, the suffering never stopped. She never lost her kindness; she never lost sight of the beautiful little things that were all around her. She noticed the lightning bugs, and the caterpillar, the way the rain hit the window, and the Shar-Peis that lined her wall. She loved the beat of the song and played it until it reached her soul.  That is how she survived so beautifully.  She did it with no one holding her hand, telling her that she was going to be ok. She did it alone in a world full of millions of people who should have done something. She survived the unimaginable through the little things the world gave her in the deepest, darkest moments. Sometimes all I can see is the blackness, the cluelessness, the brutality. I am learning to see her differently. She suffered more than anyone can imagine. So yes she is different, she cries, she feels everything deeply.  The depth of her pain and the depth of how she views life comes from that girl who suffered so beautifully that no one on the outside noticed. I am so very grateful for that girl. I am her, and she is me.  

I heart your heart