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Jun. 8th, 2004 11:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
monchardonneretI look into the mirror and I see only my face. I see only a hint of the face that had been before I was given this one. I have had this one longer than the other but I was more attached to the other. This was an effect of a bad time and place. I can still hear their words in my head about being demon spawn, sent from the devil. I can still feel the pain than eventually faded into a numbness beyond utter pain while i heard the sizzle of my skin and smelled it burning off of me.
Holy Water.
Would it revile others to know I actually have a stock of my own? In small leak proof containers. Among other things gathered in my weakest, darkest moments of my past. When all my thoughts were toward ending this torture, before I found reasons to live, reasons to continue, reasons to see the brighter -if not bright- parts of this undead life.
I've sat staring at myself, at this mirror for two hours.
Truth is the scars never wounded me as much as Belle did. Or Belle's people. Jean-claude says/said he understood, but I was with Belle for countless years before he was. I was loved by her for a long time before my heart found him and was his. His and Julianna's. He may not have meant to turn me away then, though in defering to him he did in way.....but being forsaken completely by her.
How many people forget an utter heart break?
How many people forget the reason for it, when it is part of them forever, unchangable?
I traced my fingers over my body looking at the damaged skin that hasn't changed in years. I was thrown to the cold and the wolves for this bad finger painting someone did with my body. Tonight I was told I was beautiful by different people for different reasons, offered different beds for different reasons, made offers and promises for different reasons. Beautiful. A word. A hollow, empty, slanderous word that ring like tin in a can, sharp and painful.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
I remember when it was first said, when the first changes happened, when I felt golden and invincible. I am still golden and white colored, touched with artic darts for eyes.....but I narry invicible.
I am not invincible, and yet, maybe my armor is too thick and my hatred of myself is too deep.
And yet I long for a different world.
I long for the world I could invision, dream, fanatsize for a moment in their words....where they say I am beautiful and they want me.
Where I might see myself in the mirror, my clothes gone, my hair unbound and pushed away from my face, behind my shoulder......and I might see myself, whole and true even now.
That I might see myself the way they do.
That i might be....
Holy Water.
Would it revile others to know I actually have a stock of my own? In small leak proof containers. Among other things gathered in my weakest, darkest moments of my past. When all my thoughts were toward ending this torture, before I found reasons to live, reasons to continue, reasons to see the brighter -if not bright- parts of this undead life.
I've sat staring at myself, at this mirror for two hours.
Truth is the scars never wounded me as much as Belle did. Or Belle's people. Jean-claude says/said he understood, but I was with Belle for countless years before he was. I was loved by her for a long time before my heart found him and was his. His and Julianna's. He may not have meant to turn me away then, though in defering to him he did in way.....but being forsaken completely by her.
How many people forget an utter heart break?
How many people forget the reason for it, when it is part of them forever, unchangable?
I traced my fingers over my body looking at the damaged skin that hasn't changed in years. I was thrown to the cold and the wolves for this bad finger painting someone did with my body. Tonight I was told I was beautiful by different people for different reasons, offered different beds for different reasons, made offers and promises for different reasons. Beautiful. A word. A hollow, empty, slanderous word that ring like tin in a can, sharp and painful.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
I remember when it was first said, when the first changes happened, when I felt golden and invincible. I am still golden and white colored, touched with artic darts for eyes.....but I narry invicible.
I am not invincible, and yet, maybe my armor is too thick and my hatred of myself is too deep.
And yet I long for a different world.
I long for the world I could invision, dream, fanatsize for a moment in their words....where they say I am beautiful and they want me.
Where I might see myself in the mirror, my clothes gone, my hair unbound and pushed away from my face, behind my shoulder......and I might see myself, whole and true even now.
That I might see myself the way they do.
That i might be....
