Hello everyone, my name is Aurora and I'm here to tell you my story. I came into this world all hopeful and willing to open up my heart.. But as you age it becomes harder and harder to take a big hit to your spirit.. So I started to close it away and only show it sometimes.
As a result I developed my little persona. It's the only way I know how to let my heart heal. It's like charging a phone. You plug it into the wall, let it sit in it's happy place for a while, and then you take it off and it slowly uses up its charge. As we all know, eventually it becomes unusable when it dies. During the points in my life where I didn't get to let myself "charge up" I became horribly depressed. My heart couldn't heal, and I simply couldn't let it become calloused.
It all started when I was about seven.
I woke to a pretty sunrise on a Tuesday morning. Contrary to this splendorous ritual, I was in a bad mood. I'd been having bad dreams, ones where I screamed in my sleep to wake myself up. The night before my parents had gotten into a big argument, which I couldn't understand.
My eyes opened and I was dangling upside down, my ankles shackled in my dad's fist. I squealed and complained, "Let me down!!" He dropped me back on my bed and left the room, satisfied with my apparent state of consciousness. I got out of bed just in my undies, and went to seek out some cereal. I was absolutely determined to find some marshmallows in the box of Lucky Charms cereal.
I discovered that there were none in the box and I proceeded to pout to my mom about it.
That was when the shit hit the fan. She woke up my little sisters, yelling about how the two of them had eaten "All of the fucking marshmallows." I interceded, saying not to yell at them because it was scary. And she started yelling at me, being angry for no reason, and I yelled right back.
My dad grabbed me, and shoved me down the stairs to the front door. I opened it, and ran out. My toes were being chilled by the frosty grass as I stared up at him. What he said, I can't recall, but I do remember feeling myself suddenly hitting the very cold ground on my exposed skin. He'd shoved me hard enough to make my head snap back and disorient me as I fell. I remember feeling scared and sad, like I wasn't really their kid, like I didn't belong. I decided from that point forward that I wasn't going to let them hurt my feelings like they did then.
My behavior radically changed, and only when I felt happy and safe would I let myself act like the kid I am.