In my younger days, I knew a girl. She was beautiful, and she was wild. She was not the life of the party, she *was* the party. People wanted to be around her all the time. She could lure complete strangers with a wink and a smile.
At some point, I guess everyone figured she’d have to grow up, to calm down and “fall in line” so to speak. As time went on, people began to worry that she might self destruct. Then, the unspeakable happened.
Last year, I read in the news that she had been horribly violated, and was found in a state of incomprehensible despair by those who loved her most. While all of her friends turned a suspicious eye toward eachother to figure out how this could’ve possibly happened, their she lie. Damaged goods.
I’m still greatly saddened that this happened. I don’t want to go see her now. I feel like I’d rather remember her vibrant, beautiful, warm smile than see her on what could well be her death bed.
It’s hard to imagine that she could ever be the same again, but I’ll keep praying for her anyway.
New Orleans…. I miss you.