The Patch-Up Girl

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The sky is a beautiful bright blue, but not so blue that it hurts my eyes. The air is heavy with sunlight. The cool wind tickles my nostrils. My lips taste delicious, salty. I feel the grainy sand between my fingers and scoop it up in my hands. I love the ocean’s whisper as it crashes against the shore.

I lay there with my eyes closed. Pattering little feet come and go but I am not curious about them.

I feel the sky turn purple. I hear the hush of sunset. I long for a warm blanket.

Yet I lay there with my eyes closed. Passionate murmurs do not tempt me.

I lay there until my head clears of conflicting thoughts. My heart is strong once again, young and brave. The scars of survival fade away. The ocean’s whisper returns my innocence.

Slowly I open my eyes. The whitewashed ceiling is unforgiving. And it is all back again, the confused mind, the unending lethargy, the search for meaning. I am once again a patched-up little girl trying to learn the rules for living.

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