Well, I've had it up to here. That's right, up to here. One day, everyone will regret saying a harsh word to me, or, more accurately, never saying a word to me at all. When I have made it big in this world, with money in my pocket and a dazzling future waiting for me just outside of my front door, and I step out, without a word of goodbye, then they'll be sorry.
They'll walk down the street, alone, and see pictures of me, hear people talk about me, about how wonderful I am and how even though no one really understood me as a kid, I just dropped all my baggage and moved on and grew up, and the people who are close to me now have everything. And the people who were close to me in the past must just be kicking themselves to let someone as amazing as me go. And it will be true. All my friends in the future will be well taken care of, as a token of my gratitude, but the people who hurt me in the past will be left with no trace of me, except the guilt.
But when they come over, just to say hello, to appologize, I won't turn them away. I am not like that. I will bring them into my lovely home, and show them my family, if I have one, and my drawings, and the tools of my trade, and I will have meals prepared for them, and they can stay in my house, as long as they like. They will meet my new friends, and be sheltered and loved by me.
But that is not all.
Whenever they look out the window of their room, they will see me, playing in the yard, in the midday sun, with my dogs and my horses, then sit on the swing with a cat in my lap whilst I read or draw. And I will see them and smile, and they will look at me. And they will know that the little girl who often sat away from the family, and was ignored for days at a time, and was told that her hair was ugly, and that her clothes of choice were ugly, and that her future would go down the drain, and that they said this because they loved her, will be gone. That teenager who talked back and was misunderstood, her art and her thoughts, will be gone. And I will be a young woman, and they will see me, from the big window, and look into my eyes, and see all the blood of those people spilt, they are gone, they are dead, and they will see that I am happy. Without them.
And that will hurt them more then I alone ever could.
And that will make me happier.
And if you don't like this paticular entry, if you think it uncharacteristic and strange, and it makes you uneasy, chances are, you are one of those people who will be staring at me from the guest room of my house.
I'll see you there.