Little Black Book

There’s a book, a little black book, that sits at the back of the book shelf, unopened. It sat there for years waiting to be opened, released. You would expect it to be torn and full of dust but the book remained perfectly put together. The inside was yet to be seen. And there’s a girl, a girl who feels disconnected to herself, confused and alone. She has seen and watches the little black book. As the days go by the book gets pushed further and further to the back of the book shelf, knocked over by the other books until it was pushed too far that it fell off the book shelf. The girl watched as it fell with such delicacy, laying on the floor first page open as if it was begging to be read. The inside now revealed the dark, worn out pages with beautiful letters but still the book was left on the floor untouched. While the girl struggled terribly with her life, the little black book was pushed around and mistreated for a couple more years. Then one day the girl picked up the book and put it on the side as she wondered how it still managed to look decent. Months went by, the girl forgot about the book and lived through her life ignoring the feelings she thought she couldn’t control until one day she caught herself looking at the little black book, thinking to herself “I can’t live this way anymore.” The book appeared to be sitting on her windowsill, waiting for her to notice it. She got the courage to open the little black book and allowed herself to read it with no hesitation. She felt it was time and she needed it. She didn’t understand why but she took the time, strength, and effort to let the stories it told to sink in. The little black book told stories, stories no one could completely understand the way they should be. Every chapter got harder and longer to read but the girl didn’t stop. Her emotions changed from pity to anger to sadness as she read from the domestic violence, sexual abuse, emotional abuse and self-harm someone had gone through. Not realizing she was in tears. She closed the little black book feeling nothing, as she held the book in both hands and watched a tear or two fall onto her cut wrist. That was when she felt a spark of consciousness and with that came a tremendous amount of pain but it all made sense now. The girl no longer felt disconnected from herself and the little black book was no longer untouched. It became greatly cherished. There is a girl, no ordinary girl but a girl who’s gone through a great amount of pain. A girl no one wishes to be because of all she’s been through, who was once lost in her own world but found her way out. She loves herself and allows herself to connect with her mind. That girl is me and I wouldn’t change my past as much as I’d want to because my past made me the strong, resilient, and smart girl I am now.