She used to be happy and dance under the stars with her only care being what she was doing right then. She made friends with strangers of all ages, her charisma was catching and people wanted to play in the world like she did.
She drank vodka and had no need for sleep, only a need for laughter and making her dreams come true. She could make you feel like you were on fire by just taking your hand and dancing in the street with you. People stared at her from doorways as she walked through the French Quarter, she would smile, giggle, and say hello. She was beautiful from deep in her soul to the outer tips of her fingers. It was not conceit for she never used it to gain anything, it just was.
She had years of pain before she became this person. She felt like it must be karma, she felt magical and strong. She was afraid of no one and nothing and she lived independently. Her passion was plenty, she would spend nights outside watching the clouds move over the river, the sun turn the sky pink, purple, orange, yellow, as it would rise and she would walk home completely saturated and content.
One day her beautiful world crashed down on her so hard she never recovered. It only took a minute for her passion for life and many things to get lost in the crowd and fade away. She didn't understand what had happened, she died that night on Bourbon Street and someone else replaced the women she once was.
She sits alone staring at the rain as tears stream down her face in unison with the raindrops. She has tried for four years to get back what little she could of the person she was. Her independence is gone, her bravado is gone, her beauty is gone, but her passion surfaces now and then in different forms. She's not bitter. She's sad and she's scared.
She used to think it would come back. If she tried hard enough she would come back. She never did but the hope is still there. Perhaps it's the only thing that keeps her from true emptiness and death. She is as insecure as the bird outside her window that her cat watches with claws sharpened. She knows enough to never let anyone know this. It could hurt her more then she is hurting now. She thinks everything she loves truly will end up leaving just as the person she was. She clings to hold onto anything that means something to her now. It's not always a good thing
She lets the ones she loves hurt her. Hurting her means less to her then losing them. She still sees amazing things in the night sky and in the sunrise, but at times it makes her sad with memories of what used to be. She fights too hard for what she loves; she's afraid to not fight for them and watch them fade from her as well.
She is pitied by her family and the friends that have known both sides of her. She resents them for that. The years have convinced her she will never be that person.
So she sits in a corner of her bed and cries in mourning for the death of someone she loved and lost.
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