When she was a girl, her world was shaky. Her father had left them and the mother, well, she needed those meds to keep her brain clear. Instead, the mother shoved them down the drain and listened to the gurgle of the disposal. It seemed to match the hush sounds, all those whispers in her ears.

When she was a girl, she searched for love the way you’d search for tulips, daisies, or roses in a lush garden, choosing carefully hoping the beauty, richness and vibrant colors would last.

When she was a girl, one day a boy spoke to her and brought her the roses pink and white like the ones that matched the print on her bedroom wall while her mother ranted, cried, and s-c-r-e-a-m-e-d. The mother shoved those beautiful petals down the drain too. The gurgling sound was the backdrop, that ferocious noise in her messy head.

When she was a girl, time passed terribly slow until she grew. She grew with the seasons. She grew with the sunlight, freshwater, and the wind. Her limbs seemed to branch out like thick, glorious vines gaining strength and forming into something solid as she rose up, up, and UP.

Yes, she rose onward toward that massive, cloudless sky.