Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Beautiful (11/07/05)
TITLE: Beautiful Me
By Leesha Procopio
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They come by the door every hour to see what I’m doing. Some peek in with wide eyes and hurry to the next door. Several try to get me to join an activity in the commons or do a puzzle. A few bark orders, “You have to come and eat,” or “Lights out.” Others try to talk- to nudge their way through my fog.
Only one sat by me silently.
I don’t even know what she looked like. I couldn’t take my eyes off the world spinning past the clouds. But while she sat, my memories spilled over.
The doctor in his crisp lab coat shook me, holding my bobbing head to look in my eyes. The wheelchair he raced through the doors. The wind blowing my waist length hair in all directions as my chin hit my chest. The doctor was yelling, asking why didn’t he take me to the E.R. Why did he wait? Strong arms carried my limp body through the hospital doors. The hard bed pressed against my bony body. How am I supposed to know how much I took? After every question as more and more people and activity surrounded me, the room went black. Then roaring back again. Like power surges, my consciousness seized. Why did they keep asking questions when I cannot utter a word? Why wouldn’t they stop? This wasn’t supposed to happen this way- I was supposed to die. I wanted to die.
She sat next to me again the next day, not saying a word, not asking any questions. The clouds lie still in the sky, suspended in infinity.
My finger traces the wounds on my wrists. Some are old and pale. Most are red and angry. Wide, narrow, scabbed, raw; each cut and burn has eased my heartache. My resentment. My anguish. Every wrong stole my soul. My worthless body is a tomb, an empty shell.
The gray blankets covered the horizon. There’s no shape to the clouds, no movement. She took her place silently as the clouds emptied their heavy bags.
Tears stream from my eyes without my knowing until one hits the burn on my palm. She rubs this tear into my sore and whispers, “Sorrow heals.”
I look to her face, but my tears veil her. Watching the clouds start to shift as they empty, a patch of heavenly blue beckons. With her hand on my shoulder, she says, “God made you because you are beautiful, and you are beautiful because he made you.”
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