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Two years ago it was a very different story.  Two years ago strong, happy, confident and very independent – I had survived the first battle of the war that would rage, a war that would take many casualties and would leave a silent destruction and devastation in its wake.

A war that went on to take the morals, values and faith that had shaped my life and would leave me a numb, empty shell.  A war played out by the very people who promised to keep me safe and never hurt me.

You see underneath that very strong, happy, independent woman was a child.  A little girl let loose on a world that could be cruel to someone so very vulnerable.  A little girl looking for someone to love her.  A little girl who trusted too easily.  A little girl who believed that the people who had been in her life for so many years would not use her to play a game that nearly took her life.

That little girl had stumbled into the light after spending so long in the dark and just needed someone to hold her hand to guide her towards the path, not to be the foot that would trip her up.

Was the game premeditated?  Or did they too stumble into something which like a child hurtling down a slide proved impossible to stop?  The consequences never considered?

Questions that have no answers.  Answers that lay hidden.  Answers that cannot change the past.

And the past?  I look back with new eyes, detached emotion, a girl in a mirror, a girl that was not me!

But the tears still come, tears for a life lost and tears for a life changed.

I am told that things happen for a reason!  I don’t believe that!  Things happen!  There is no rhyme, no reason, it is just life!  And how much we love life gives us a reason, a reason to carry on.

And my reason to carry on?  Somewhere deep inside there was hope.  At the time I couldn’t see it but now, reading back in the diaries I wrote day after day to stop the torment in my head, I can.  A conflict that screamed inside me, wanting to let go, to give in but at the same time a desperation to live.

That desperation took over the day I held the cold blade to my wrist.  Desperation told me to turn and walk away.  Desperation gave me the strength to go on.  Desperation gave me reason and reason gave me hope!

And my hope?  My hope that one day my smile would return and I would learn to live life once more.

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