I woke up in a bench in a city somewhere. This little girl was looking at me. She was probably seven years old, had bright yellow hair and great blue eyes. She was wearing a light pink dress, white stockings and black shoes. She looked familiar but I had trouble focusing on that as she was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen in my life. She took my hand and without saying anything, she took me downtown.
I must say that that was the last place I thought that little sweet girl would take me … and to be honest that was the last place I thought I would see her. The little girl must’ve been gone because all I could see now was that girl laying on the floor. She was skinny, vulnerable, and lost now. You could see in her hazel eyes that she had suffered … maybe more than any human being should have. She had pain carved in her face, and fear stuck in her soul. Life had beaten her hard … too hard. She was on the corner, left alone, with nothing or anyone to hold on to. She was helpless, fragile, broken, torn apart.
As I walked towards her, I realized she wasn’t alone. You could clearly see she was all by herself, but other people, just like her, were all there with her, like they were trash, tossed away by people as if they were nothing. People who passed by them would turn around, cross the street, or simply stare at them with disgust, like if they were rotten.
As I moved closer, I started recognizing the place, the people who walked by, the high buildings around us, the smell of fresh baked bagles from the bakery on the right corner … and as hard as it seemed, I recognized the girl tossed on the corner. I could now see my own reflection there, in her face. But that couldn’t be me. I was there, staring at her, pitting her with all my guts. Wishing I could do something to help her out, make her get out of there, or simply snap out from all of it.
She was staring now. I knew she had recognized me and I couldn’t run away. My body was stuck to the ground. She was getting up and she couldn’t stop staring at me, as if she couldn’t believe I was there, standing in front of her. Soon, everyone started staring at us and I started feeling as if I wasn’t really meant to be there. Everything, now, inside me, told me I wasn’t supposed to be there. She was stunned.
As she touched my face, I felt her cold hand. Was I dead?! I couldn’t be. I WASN’T!!! This was just a dream … This was just a dream … This was just a dream … This was just a dream … This HAD to be JUST a dream. She opened her mouth as if she were going to say something but nothing came out. As I looked around I realized those people were all me … all my fases … all my thoughts … all my feelings … childhood … adolescence … my rebel years … my focused years …
As she grabbed by the hand and took me away from that corner, my dark years, from the moments I had suffered and been broke down, I knew I was free to live again and let my pain rest. I knew my heart was alive again and it would take a long time until we were brought together by life.