The Loss of Love (Pain: Part III)

There once lived a girl who wanted love.

She wanted it so badly that she would close her eyes at night and magic herself into an unbroken woman. But as soon as her eyes would open again, she knew she was not that great, fine lady. She was only a crippled girl, made stiff with scar tissue, exhaustion, and disappointments.

She would drag herself out of bed and slowly stretch out every muscle, pulling at the scars until they loosened just enough to allow her to dance.

Alone and like a monster, she would dance. Her clawed hands making jagged circles in the air as she threw her body into a wretched ballet of passion and pain. She would dance until she had no breath, and then her scars would warm, her hands unfurl, and her body take flight for eight ecstatic moments before collapsing back in on itself, spent.

In the absence of motion, a debilitating loneliness would rush into her bones like the tide. Her body turned brittle, and all her scar tissue grew cold. So she bathed in oils and salts, masking the tears that she wept.

She had known loneliness for as long as she could remember. It had seen her through all of the battles that had given her such scars and walked hand in hand with her as she defeated demons. As the years passed it had grown into her, curling through her veins until the pain was as familiar as her own skin.

It would pull at her throat when she tried to speak. It pinched beneath her tongue whenever she smiled. And sometimes it dug through her chest and crushed into her heart like an old, wicked friend. It whispered false, loving words that caused her to reach out her broken hands, only to find them emptier than before.

As the girl grew old, she could no longer dance long enough to shed her brokenness.
One day she woke and heard no more music. In sorrow, she stumbled and crawled outside into the wilds, holding onto branches and roots to give her strength as she fought to climb high into the mountains and above the clouds. Time passed, and still, the broken girl climbed. She lost her sight, and still, the broken girl climbed. Her hearing failed, and still, the broken girl climbed.

Then, at last, she reached the top of the world and could climb no higher. So she brought herself to her feet and steadied herself. Moments passed, or perhaps years.

As she stood there, the girl remembered her life. She remembered her dreams, she remembered her hope, and she remembered her love. She remembered the feeling of warmth and the sound of rushing water. She remembered the sight of the setting sun and the wide, wide universe above her. She remembered so well that she could almost imagine all was real.
Suddenly, her body warmed, and the sound of birdsong and living water rushed into her ears.

Awestruck, she watched with new eyes as the sun pierced through the darkness and bathed the great world around her in golden light.  And as tears poured down her face, the girl looked up and saw the sky.

It was alive with stars.