But, of all the parts and pieces, the next is the hardest. It's the hardest to put on paper, because it's filled with things that she can't yet explain, hasn't yet come to grips with, and can only hope that putting it in a tangable form will enable her to do so.
It's also the part of the story that leads to where she is now, and tells why she's there. It's the part of the story that begins to show triumph, victory and the joy of survival.
Yet to her, it doesn't read that way. To her it still seems lonely, and empty, and she doesn't know how to put that emptiness into words. If it's in verbal form, it's no longer empty. The emptyness is what she knows, it was born in her from the time she was told "no" for the first time by one of her parents.
It's routine, habit.
This is the part where she wants to scream for someone to hold her, to let her sob into their arms while she simply lets out all the emptiness so she can be filled with something better.
This is the part where she wants to get mad, yell, throw things, and then to have someone take her by the hand, gently, and tell her it's okay. They're there now, they'll take care of her.
She will survive.
I got a funny feeling we missed a page or two somehow Ohh-ohhhh, Cinderella, maybe you could help us out Does the shoe fit you now
Through the years and the kids and the jobs
Hey hey, Cinderella, what's the story all about
We're older but no more the wise -- suzy bogguss -- |
Not the Ending I wanted to finish the story this afternoon, during my "free" hour when we really do no business between the hours of 5 and 6. But, of all the parts and pieces, the next is the hardest. It's the hardest to put on paper, because it's filled with things that she can't yet explain, hasn't yet come to grips with, and can only hope that putting it in a tangable form will enable her to do so. It's also the part of the story that leads to where she is now, and tells why she's there. It's the part of the story that begins to show triumph, victory and the joy of survival. Yet to her, it doesn't read that way. To her it still seems lonely, and empty, and she doesn't know how to put that emptiness into words. If it's in verbal form, it's no longer empty. The emptyness is what she knows, it was born in her from the time she was told "no" for the first time by one of her parents. It's routine, habit. This is the part where she wants to scream for someone to hold her, to let her sob into their arms while she simply lets out all the emptiness so she can be filled with something better. This is the part where she wants to get mad, yell, throw things, and then to have someone take her by the hand, gently, and tell her it's okay. They're there now, they'll take care of her. She will survive.
Brief - 2007-07-05
all content copyright shewhowalks 2005
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