I stared into her eyes. Two beautiful pools of a blue-green mish-mosh, much like sea weed floating in the ocean. She stared straight back at me. Neither of us moved. Neither of us breathed. I looked at her more than I ever had before. It was literally like she was picking me up and putting me in her soul and giving me heart as a map. I could almost hear her telling me to explore and to not be afraid of what I found and to embrace it all. So, I did. I took her heart into my hands and explored. And what I found was the beautiful, strong, caring girl I knew was always there. I knew she could do anything. She could overcome any label that had been taped on her by other people. But I also saw something that disturbed me deeply. I saw strings. Not the kind you see hanging off a pair off cut off shorts but those that puppeteers attach to their puppets. There were quite a few and next to each was a description of why it was there. Some were there for those people who controlled how she saw herself. Some were there for those people who controlled how she saw herself. Some where there for people to control what she thought she could and couldn’t do. I wasn’t sure what to make of these strings so I stepped by them; out of sight, out of mind. Then, I stopped. Because after finding so many things that would make a person happy in life, I found some very dark things as well. I found some memories, and objects. I picked through these carefully as not to release them back into her for I knew they were demons. I found the memory of the day her grandfather went to the hospital, suffering from two almost fatal heart attacks. The memory of her mother, finding a lump in her breast. The memory of the horribly sick feeling that washed over her when she realized her father never wanted her. The memory of hearing that he uncle was in an explosion that almost claimed his life. A bottle of anti-depressants. A small, shiny knife. And a picture. A picture of the person she loved more than anyone else, ripped, into tiny pieces. I had dug up her past, her present. But not her future. I had found no hope. No dreams. Was I just not looking hard enough? Or did this girl really have no desires in life? I once again searched deeper. And this time I found it, floating deep inside her heart, mind, and soul; a place where all three connected. She has huge dreams, big hopes, and wonderful desires. For such big dreams you would think that they would consume her. But they floated in a ball no bigger than the palm of my hand. I made one final attempt to find what truly made up this girl and I found it. A picture of her mother, a small gold cross, an earring, and a box. A small black box which was feather light to hold. When I opened it, I found only a small piece of paper. The words printed on it read “The final piece of me is a desire to be loved by someone other than my family. And also a desire to be accepted for who I am and all that I am. A desire that burns in me; in my darkest place. And because light will always illuminate the darkness, there will always be a spark of hope burning deep inside me, even when it feels like all hope is gone.” I took one final look at everything I had found in that precious girl. And then I reaches out to hug her in all her entirety. I reached out to hug her flaws, her hopes, dreams, and desires. And everything that was perfect about her and every pain she had ever felt. I started towards this beautiful creature sent from God and she started towards me. But right as I was about to embrace her, as my hand touched hers, I felt an unsettling cold on my skin. And when I looked down at my hand, I realized the person I had been searching and found so many wonderful things and horrible memories in, was nothing more than a cold glass mirror.
I had found myself in all that I am and in everything that makes me who I am. And it was then, that I took a breath of the setting sun, let all my worries melt away, and cut the strings and when I exhaled, a powerful jolt rushed through me as I waved goodbye in my heart to the old me. I still carry my memories, but some of the pain is gone. The old me took off into the setting sun and I cried. Not because I missed that person or even wanted her back. But because I finally came to the realization that I was going to be okay without her.