joannebest











{August 17, 2013}   Mostly

fade
Mostly, she waits.
She’s used to being an afterthought, used to being on the bottom of the list assuming she’s on the list at all.
Used to being used.
She wasn’t always this way, there was a time when she was strong and secure.
Although it took a long time to get to that place in her life where she felt confident, sure of herself,
it didn’t take long for her to slide back into old habits, back into the invisible she knew so well.
That’s a lie.
It was a long slow descent back into the invisible, a comment here, a look there, and before she knew it she was right back to the shadow of herself she had been most of her life.
It was as if there was a switch hidden somewhere, a switch she had no access to.
No control.
Just a series of clicks controlling her every move.
She’d appear when it was time to cook and clean.
She’d appear when there was a need for an entertainer, a hostess, a whore.
Then ‘click’ and she’s gone.
Invisible girl once again.
They put Baby in the corner.
They cornered Baby, held her down and raped her spirit.
They stole her soul.
Left her broken.

One day she noticed something strange. She began to fade in and out on her own, without a switch controlling her.
When she first noticed this she was apathetic, convinced this was a trick of some kind, a test to make sure Baby knew her place, invisible and in the corner waiting to be used.
There was something else she noticed, she began to see flickers, shadows of others fading in and out at another’s control. What she saw, that she was not alone in the invisible, stuck in her mind and she began to wonder.
She began to remember what she was before they raped her soul.
She began to remember there was goodness, there was light and laughter beyond her invisible, a different kind of laughter, not at her but with her.
That she was strong once and she could be strong again, that if she fell and no one was there to catch her she could bounce back up by herself.

So now, mostly she waits, but this wait is a different kind of waiting.
She passes mirrors and her reflection is beginning to appear again.
fading

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That is a different sort of psychological involvement. I see. I know what you mean.



And why does that not surprise me? xox



Thanks for getting it….xox



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