christi-fayon-blog

[christi-fayon-blog]

“If you leave her, make sure she’s not the love of your life. Otherwise you will meet her one day, on an autumn street, yellow leaves blowing about her, her arms full of her child and a happy marriage. And she will as you expectantly, her eyes gleaming, hoping you found happiness too, “What did you trade me for?” And you will not be able to answer. Because all you traded true love in for is empty hands and a half full life.”

— Nikita Gill

[christi-fayon-blog]

The Love You Wished to Find

“Broken.”

 You continue running as everyone chased after you, your dirty white dress now soaked with mud.

 “Slut.”

 You try to shut out the words with the flash of lightning, followed by the crackling sounds of thunder.

 “Freak.”

 You see an abandoned building, and you suddenly changed directions and headed straight for it.

 “Useless.”

 The rain started to fall. You notice how each drop of clear water suddenly turned to dirty brown as each one fell to the ground.

 “Unworthy.”

 You reached the entrance of the building. It was open.

 “Get her before she locks herself in!”

 You quickly locked the door. Frantically, you see a couple of chairs. Old, but not yet broken. You hurriedly put it against the door.

 Muffled screams fill the abandoned room. The angry crowd pounded against the door, but all you hear was silence.

 You let the tears fall, you let yourself remember all of it.

 You remember the time when your parents encouraged you to make beauty and art, and you did.

You remember the time when your family pushed you away because you were too hopeful.

You remember the time when your friends taught you the beauty of words, of poetry and of books, and how you fell in love with it.

You remember the time when your friends started ignoring you when they saw you were different.

You remember the time when you left without an excuse because everyone was insulting you.

You remember the time when you journeyed with no extra clothes, with no extra money and you have to sleep at the streets.

You remember the time when you met the boy of your dreams along your travels, or so you thought.

You remember the time when he taught you how to play the piano and guitar, and just like with art and with words, you created music.

You remember the time sleeping with him one night, and the next day you wake up with a note, without him.

You remember the time when you just stopped caring.

You remember the time when you first pulled a cigarette, of how the smoke went into and out of your lungs.

You remember the time when you saw a man in a white robe looking at you while you lighted a cigarette.

You remember the time when you started drinking and doing drugs, of how the alcohol and the substance went into the system and gave you the hype you needed.

You remember the time when you first did a one-night stand, with a random guy you have never met.

You remember the time when you stole a pocket knife from a man in black, because he didn’t pay you back after you slept with him.

You remember the time when you first cut your arms, because no one ever told you that you were beautiful.

You remember the time when the crowd saw you in a white dress and chased you, because they say “those who wear white are only those are pure and beautiful in body and soul.”

You remember the time when the white dress suddenly turned into mud brown.

You remember the time when you went into the abandoned building, just five minutes ago.

 You angrily wipe those tears away. You get the pocket knife and put pressure on your arms. Blood, bright red, suddenly erupted. You let the pain and the blood flow through your arms, down to your wrists, until you let it drop to the ground. You let the moment last, as it usually never does.

 The door suddenly burst open. You turn around and saw the crowd rushing angrily towards you. You try to run away, but there’s no way out.

 A man in black was leading the people. He sees you and sees the pocket knife you’ve been holding. His pocket knife.

 You hide both arms behind your back, but to no avail. They saw the stolen knife, they saw the blood dripping down the floor, on your dress.

 It was such a scandal.

 The crowd was closing in on you, getting ready for your punishment.

 Your dress is in torns, they can see your flaws, your imperfections, your scars. Things that are not accepted in the world that you live in.

 But then a man wearing a white robe stepped in. You recognize him as the man who was looking at you when you were smoking. No amount of dirt was seen on him. "How much?"

 The crowd was confused.

 "How much?" He asked again. He pointed at you. “How grave is her punishment?”

The man in black spoke, with disgust and a sadistic smile written all over his face. “Death”, he replied.

 The person in white looked at you, with eyes full of love, full of sadness, that you could not help looking into.

 And while he was looking at you, he said. “I’ll do it.”

 “Do what?” The people asked.

 “I’ll die for the girl. My death for her life.” He spoke again while still looking at you.

 The crowd was confused, but nonetheless, their dirty hands took hold of his clean shirt.

 Before he was taken away, you asked him, “Why?”

 And he answered,

“Because I love you. I have loved you the day you were born. I have seen you grow into a beautiful woman, who was scarred and hurt continually all over again. I was heart broken to see you crying every night, wondering if someone truly loves you. I tried to talk to you, but you never listened. You believed these people and cried out to them. You knew they would never give the love you wish to find, and you still tried to searched them. I see you hurt yourself, all those scars on your arms, and I tried. I really tried to call you, But you never heard me. You saw glimpses of me, you’ve heard my faint calls, but you’ve never searched me. I love you too much to see you die in misery, in pain. I wish to see you live a life of faith, hope and love. Now, child, tired child, I’m giving you the love you wish to find.”

 And in that moment, before he was finally taken away, he hugged you, knowing you are full of dirt, and tears ran down through your cheeks as you finally felt it. You felt love.

 Love you’ve searched hard for.

 Love these people can never give you.

 Love you’ve been crying every night for.

 Love you’ve hurt yourself over and over again.

 As He bid goodbye, you know He gave you it.

 He gave you the love you wished to find.