I met a beautiful intelligent woman. She was filled with deep deep sadness from horrible abuses she was made to suffer again and again as a very young child. She is brave and kind. She is talented and gentle. She is a woman and still a child. A child that never grew up lives within her. They share her body, and she doesn't mind. Others live within her as well. They are not welcome. They are loud and scary. They torture her and make her want to bang on her head. They poke needles through her eyes. Yet she survives, and not only survives, but prevails. She graduated law school in the top of her class. She deals with all that haunts her daily, like it's a trip to the mall.
When I cannot think, I think of her. She gives herself to me freely, in many ways. She knows me inside and out. She doesn't want to tell me of her pain and struggling. She doesn't want to make me feel sorry for her, or make me sad. She doesn't want me to worry that she can't eat or sleep, sometimes for days. She loves me and pretends for me that everything is alright.
She needs help. I want to help her but I am in over my head. She is afraid a stranger might try to put her away, so am I. I love her. She is amazing. She is a work of art. She is a survivor, but more than that, a conqueror.