The Little Girl Down The Street

There was a quiet girl down the street. Average girl. You wouldn’t notice her in a crowd. But in her young age, she was more concerned with the other girls. She tried not to let the sting of being sometimes picked third,forth even last but never first to the team. She was Mediocre at best.

She wasn’t the smartest. She didn’t get awards,scholarships or recognition for any of her works, art or music. She secretly thought it was good.  It just wasn’t to be. She was Mediocre at best.

She wasn’t the prettiest. There was always someone prettier. She felt inferior to her friends that were smarter, cuter. Parties, “I’m sorry you are not invited.” Her body image was less than. She hated who she was and was mad at God that He had not made her special.

To her mediocre meant failure.

She dreamed of a prince rescuing her so that others would see. See that she was special.

At night, her mind would Dance with the stars. She would dream of being special to someone, something.

But she had a dark secret that kept her from being “like the other girls.” One she promised to never tell. One she was too ashamed to tell. Even as a small girl,she knew it was wrong. Was it her fault? But she was so young. So yes, she wasn’t like the other girls. She carried her secret through her life. She had begun to realize she was not special like she once thought. She believed the lies.

As she grew up, the secret grew with her. And she grew less. She learned though by happenstance one evening as she sat off in a corner that there was another world. One drink made her high and for a while she forgot her pain. But she didn’t stop at one. Two, three. And before long she was singing karaoke with the rest and felt like one of them. And the boys … the boys had started talking to her. Finally, she was special. One even said he would take her home. How special she felt. She felt like a princess again, like when she was little…before…,it happened. Even if just a short time, she let him walk her to the door. But then he began to get pushy. He wanted to come in. She said no. But he was stronger than her.

Once again she carried a dark secret deep within her soul. “What is wrong with me?” She begin to self-loathe. She began to not care. She thought God had forgotten her.

But she had found a way to drown out the pain privately where she couldn’t be hurt. Or that is what she thought.

At first, she just drank on weekends. With time, she started drinking a night or two during the week. Eventually, she was drinking everyday. She was having a hard time focusing at work.

Her world had spiraled. She had lost everything. The few friends she had. Her job. Her dignity.

It was then that she walked through the doors.

Me

Her Broken Wing

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