The girl with no name

a writing by Elizabeth Grace Shearer

Her face must have been carved by angels for its shines like the brightest sun bringing joy to all who see her. Her smile so beautiful yet a mere smoke screen to hide the pain and anguish within her, the agony of her burden. Her lips crimson as a fresh rose and pleasing to the eye but filled with poison and evil. Her eyes like crystal pools, so soft and gentle but behind her glazy stares lies a dark secret and a fear that is ever growing and will soon control her. As negative thoughts flood her mind she sees no good in the world but especially in herself. She looks in the mirror and all she sees is a savage beast staring back at her.

The poison runs through her veins like a volcano destroying everything in its path leaving her nothing more than a shell of her former self. The void filled by the great monster that is determined to destroy her from the inside out. People constantly telling her she is beautiful but what is the use when she cannot believe it for herself. The words of encouragement are repelled like same magnets by the evil inside as it recognises these attempts as a threat to its power and domain.
Her inner beauty has been abolished, brutally suffocated by the monster. Her heart no longer a thing of beauty to be admired for it was ripped away and in its place sits a broken black mess. Its surface marred as thought whipped continually until the last drop of goodness and hope is gone. Her outer appearance, slowly manifested by her fear and self-inflicted hatred that continues to grow. To the world, she can do no wrong, there is some truth in this but the counts this as a weakness because it causes her inability to end her terror and rage at the world but even more to end this tangled mess called life.

Her mind poisoned with pure evil and although she tries to escape it grabs her and drags her further under cruelly extinguishing any chances of freedom or hopes of happiness. Her mind so confused that she must ask herself who she is because she does not recognise who or what she has become. Her memories likened to a pit of terror, destruction and a never ending fear influencing every decision she makes, preventing her reaching her full potential.
She tries to block out the world and concentrate on finding her real self but constantly comes up against another obstacle. She desperately wants to believe that she has some worth in this world but it is her fear that prevents her from doing so. Her identity has become a thing of the past because no-one knew who she was not even herself. She would look in the mirror but could not recognise the person staring back at her. When she sits alone crying she desperately tries to remember something, anything of her true self to ignite a spark of hope but she finds nothing. The people she loved are now all gone and the friendships she made are as thoughts from a child's imagination but nothing more.

She is all alone, standing on the edge peering over into the abyss waiting to swallow her. Before, it scared her, prettified her soul but now, now it looks so inviting, almost welcoming. It whispers softly, ' I can make it stop' but the turmoil, it never stops, it does not pause for breath, it just continues its path of destruction. Feeding itself on whatever remains it finds. It steals the air in her lungs mocking her as she gasp for breath. It fuels anger, uncontrollable anger from her very depths and burns everyone in her path, causing so much pain. It’s unbearable to watch but with eyes are fixed, she cannot move. Her body feels limp, lifeless as she continues drifting through the motions of daily life, pretending she is OK, smiling at strangers while the battle rages on. The tears like acid spill down her face burning the skin, revealing the truth that has hidden beneath the surface so long. The truth that she has held on too long, the very tissues and fibres that make up her being have been torn apart and in their wake lays emptiness, an emptiness you cannot express with words. An emptiness that even trying to imagine its depths would engulf you; an emptiness that has no beginning and no end.

The battle is over, the monster has won. Her physical shell remains as a haunting reminder, there is no life left in her just brokenness and emptiness. She fought so hard but it wasn’t enough, she reached out but her grasp was too weak to hold on. The monster controls her but still not satisfied with its victory it sets out for its next victim.

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