05-17-2016, 02:44 PM
I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be okay. I never really have, but it's been worse lately, since the near-disaster that left Mom and I bleeding, Argo weakened, and Lissie born early and far from the protection of the Tundra. Well. Far enough. But for Mom, I'm trying. For Dad, and for Argo, and for all my sisters, I'm trying. There is no unmaking myself, no unwriting my existence, and ending it would destroy them. I never want to hurt them.
So this is me. Doing the best I can to be okay. To be normal. To be a happy kid with nothing haunting me during the dark hours or blinding me during the daytime, sending me running for cover in the Tundra's caves, where there is a twisted kind of safety in the familiarity of darkness sinking through my skin. Normal kids make friends. Kids with hearts made of flesh instead of jagged shards of glass stand out in the open when they go to the playground, instead of finding a dark space to hide until it is time to go home. So I stand, not even sheltered by the weeping arms of a willow tree or the strong limbs of an oak, but out in the sunlight where anyone can see me.
And someone does. More than sees me, a little girl bounds over to me and introduces herself, inviting me to be her friend. I open my mouth to reply, but she gives me no chance to do so before seeing through the ragged remnants of a mask that once hid my pain from the world much better. Too well, until I was too raw, too broken to function even this much. Before I can get so much as a word in, she is inviting me home with her and wrapping herself around me in a hug.
I hug her back, my lips curving into a smile of their own accord. “Thank you, Graeme. You give good hugs.” And though I should be drowning from all the hugs and cuddles from all of the people who love me and want me with them, I still sink into the innocent embrace of a sweet little stranger who wants to be my friend.
It is a long moment before I can say anything more. I just breathe in, breathe out, and let a moment of peace wash over me. When I pull back, that smile is still on my face. “I'm Nevi. I would be happy to be your friend. And thank you very much for asking, but I already have a mom and a dad that took me home and made me theirs. I live in the Tundra now. Where do you live, sweetheart?”
So this is me. Doing the best I can to be okay. To be normal. To be a happy kid with nothing haunting me during the dark hours or blinding me during the daytime, sending me running for cover in the Tundra's caves, where there is a twisted kind of safety in the familiarity of darkness sinking through my skin. Normal kids make friends. Kids with hearts made of flesh instead of jagged shards of glass stand out in the open when they go to the playground, instead of finding a dark space to hide until it is time to go home. So I stand, not even sheltered by the weeping arms of a willow tree or the strong limbs of an oak, but out in the sunlight where anyone can see me.
And someone does. More than sees me, a little girl bounds over to me and introduces herself, inviting me to be her friend. I open my mouth to reply, but she gives me no chance to do so before seeing through the ragged remnants of a mask that once hid my pain from the world much better. Too well, until I was too raw, too broken to function even this much. Before I can get so much as a word in, she is inviting me home with her and wrapping herself around me in a hug.
I hug her back, my lips curving into a smile of their own accord. “Thank you, Graeme. You give good hugs.” And though I should be drowning from all the hugs and cuddles from all of the people who love me and want me with them, I still sink into the innocent embrace of a sweet little stranger who wants to be my friend.
It is a long moment before I can say anything more. I just breathe in, breathe out, and let a moment of peace wash over me. When I pull back, that smile is still on my face. “I'm Nevi. I would be happy to be your friend. And thank you very much for asking, but I already have a mom and a dad that took me home and made me theirs. I live in the Tundra now. Where do you live, sweetheart?”