The Killing of Faith
- PRESENT MOMENT –
I‘m not a very good writer. I’ve never even kept a diary. I wanted to get my story down long ago because people need to know what happened to me. It was just too difficult. I haven’t seen a computer or laptop in years. They wouldn’t even give me a pen, a pencil, or anything to write on. I’m being watched twenty-four hours a day. Everywhere I go, everything I say, and everything I do is being monitored. I’m sure they’ll track my thoughts as soon as they figure out how.
I’m not a young girl anymore but I’m not as old as I look. Every now and then I get a glimpse at my reflection and I don’t even recognize the person I’ve become. My once radiant skin is now sunburnt. My beautiful blonde hair is full of tangles and knots. My lips, which were always soft and inviting, are dry and chapped. My hands are calloused, my nails are broken, and my body is covered in open sores. If you look close, you’ll find the only part of me the world hasn’t stolen: my bright blue eyes still sparkle as brightly as ever when they’re not filled with tears.
There once was a time when I had it all—nice clothes, expensive jewelry, a fancy car, a big house, and my beautiful children. Now they’re all gone. Some people say money can’t buy happiness. Maybe so, but it sure can buy away a lot of unhappiness. I don’t need fancy clothes but it’d be really nice to at least have clothes to wear. I don’t need a big house but is it asking too much to have a pillow to lay my head on? My children—well that’s a whole ’nother story.
Now I know why people pray for death. There’s a small, dark place between life and death that few people even know exists. It’s so dark and it leaves you so helpless and so hopeless that it sucks all the light from your soul. Death is the only way out.
One day at a time … that’s what I keep telling myself … one day at a time. I still have my faith so I keep praying that some miracle will come along and save me. Well, at this point, I’d be happy for just a small glimmer of hope.
Where did it all go so wrong you ask? I’ve asked myself that question many, many times. Things started going badly and then snowballed out of control. Now I can’t go forward and I can’t go back. Even if I could, how far back would I have to go to end this nightmare and get my life back on track again? This is not the way my life was supposed to turn out.
I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t say everything right. Telling my story will take some time and, quite frankly, I don’t have a lot of time left. We’re all a product of the choices we make in life. It’s impossible to understand how I got where I am today without knowing me—the real me.
You’d never believe this if it weren’t true. As impossible as it is to believe, what happened to me could happen to anyone! Where do I start? I guess I’ll start at the beginning.
