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Here Lies the Body of the Girl I Left Behind

Her innocence is as sweet as the juice that oozes from a bite of a peach. Happiness is found deep in the cracks of her soul surrounded by the thick waves of joy and hope. You would imagine her to have a wide endearing smile that enchants the people that she meets, and you would be right. The thing is sadness runs in her blood flowing around her, but never consuming her whole. She thinks one day it might, it would take one good cut and it would pour out, spilling all around her. She had wanted it to, consume her that is, before she knew there was a word for that.

Children are selfish creatures. It’s not their fault that they don’t think about others around them, they just hadn’t learned that yet. She was no different. There was no thoughts of what she might leave behind or who, only action. So, she drunk the poison with little regret. It was disgusting, and the tang of it is tasted years later like it was etched on her tongue. That little selfish girl is buried deep behind the support of her mother, under carefully crafted thoughts that are imbued with encouragement, and the will to continue to add dirt to her grave. It has not been easy to mold yourself into a new person, to reject neon written thoughts that yell in your mind, or to pull yourself from the vacuum of despair and nothingness. It is worth it.

Her father made the mistake a couple years after she had tried. Although, he succeeded. I suppose I could write thousands of words to describe her grief, and her anger. Those are words that must be written at a later time. For now, just know that she’s dealing with it. Actually, she’s not, but it is a fact of life that she has come to accept, it’s a paradox that she’s still in shock.

That is the girl I left behind. She was a collision of confused antonyms, as am I, but where they left her dizzy and unsteady, they left me anchored, and in control. I am inspired by her, and she is the secret beneath my writings as I hope to be the same to the woman I become in the future.

I hope you like the stories I tell in the cemetery of the girl I left behind.


My name is Kicka, which is short for Kickass. I’m a college student that loves to create. I want what everyone else wants. Happiness.