Why I Cut My Short Story

Why cut my story short? Every life; every little bottle of emotions and words has a story. Some stories are similar, or thought of as cliché but every person, every being has one that is all their own. Some stories naturally are shorter than others, but some never get to find their ending, their happily ever after. I searched my entire life for happiness that was inches away from me, yet I never got it because of one lethal weapon we made legal. Words, completely free and okay to be spoken, are the most lethal weapon of them all. They shouted ugly, fat, and stupid in my face. Yet whispered worthless, disgusting, and sinner into my soul. And it’s legal. Everyone said to ignore them, that they were just jealous of my beauty. They told me that

But it just encouraged them, they found light in the darkness of my eyes, and they found strength in my weaknesses. They are born with this power to hurt, and they learn words and judgements to kill. Learning to use that power, that’s part of their story. And the use of that power is part of both of our stories, yet our stories are completely different. I grew up so happy, I never understood the power of words. My parents laughed and smiled still, they kissed like they were in love and tucked me in every night with a tender kiss on my temple. They were living the dream; with their unconditional love, roof over their heads, and a beautiful daughter to cherish completely. I grew up with the sounds of their happy voices echoing through the walls, and the image of them dancing in their underwear through the kitchen. Their smiles were unstoppable, I felt as though no evil could hurt

Every word stuck to my heart like glue. The words ugly, worthless, stupid, whore, fat, and loser were plastered on my heart and soul forever. I had a broken record in my head replaying every wrong word they said to me, it was on a constant repeat that would never stop. I got so lost in the sound of the record, I couldn’t listen to what was around me. I stopped hearing the happiness in my parents laughs, I stopped hearing the love in my best friends voice, I stopped hearing the interest in my teachers voice. Suddenly everything I once loved, meant nothing. I felt no freedom in kicking a ball across a field with my friends, I felt no calm in staring at the stars for hours on end, but worst of all I felt no happiness in my laughter. The spark I felt staring into my boyfriends eyes was gone, the fire burning inside me had gone out. Those words, the words I promised would never get to me, did. And somehow it didn’t hurt. I was completely numb. It was the feeling of boiling hot water feeling cold, but everywhere. I loved it at first; it was a high, an escape. But I slowly realized I no longer felt any happiness in this numb state. The name calling