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“Where am I, what am I doing here?” This life can’t be mine. I have to be living someone else’s life. My life was great, I was alive, now I seem to be in a daze, I can’t get out of.



“Who am I? Why can’t I remember who I am?” I have a name, but I don’t know it, is that even possible? I look in the mirror, and the face I see is mine, but it is not familiar. I look at the eyes of a stranger. I don’t like who I see, I don’t know who I see.



“A stranger, looking at a stranger” comes to my mind. Or is it my mind. I am not so sure anymore. The mind is in the body, in the soul. If you don’t know that body, that soul. If you are in a stranger’s body, maybe the mind is a stranger to.



“What is a soul, do I even have a soul?” Is this soul mine, or am I locked in a body with a mind and a soul that is not mine?



“I want out of here. I don’t belong in this place.” A body I know longer recognize, with a name I don’t know. A mind and a soul that belongs to a stranger. I look in the mirror, I don’t like what I see. Hair that is normally untamed, tamed, a face that is frozen in a frown. The worst part though, is the eyes. Eyes that are angry, eyes that are sad, eyes that are scared…

The eyes of a stranger.

Why am I stranger to me? Why don’t I recognize me?”



“I am tired, you can see it on the face, in the eyes, in the movement.” I can’t think, I can’t concentrate, I cant’ get out . I want sleep, but I need more than sleep. What I need I don’t

get, I can’t have.



The hands of this body is shaking, I can’t get them to stop. I can’t control it much longer. I can feel it building, the fury, the anger. Now I know why I see fear in the eyes of this stranger. It is the fury, she will lose control, her temper will flare. The fear she will no longer be able to control the uncontrollable.



“Help her God! Help this stranger, of this stranger, I am living in.”

I met someone today, someone who has been in my mind for many many decades. Someone who has rule my heart longer than that. I wish I could go back n time, to change the past, to have another chance.



Why did I decide to do what I did? Why did I decide that I no longer care to go on? Now, here I am in this dark place, unable to leave, unable to crawl out of this deep well, I’ve dug for myself.



Why? Why? Why did you have to come into my life again? How I wish I could be with you, be there for you . Yet here I am trying to climb my way out. I can hear you call my name. I try and I try to yell to say I am here, yet it comes in a small whisper. Every time I try to climb, I fall. Maybe I should give up than maybe I can rest in peace.



I love you; I want you to know that. If I can never leave this hell I have put myself in just know I have never regretted that night, so long ago, that night you was conceived. That night was hell for me. The abuse I suffered, both physically and emotionally. The night I was raped, the night I lost myself.



I would live it again; I would never change that night, because than you never would have been born. I just wish I had realized at the time what a blessing you was. How I wish I had not let the injustice rule my life. I just wish I had not let the man become my owner. Which he was in all sense of the word. He ruled my life, even though I have not seen him in reality.



Everyday, every moment of my existence I see him, I hear him. I can hear you call my name over his voice, I think for once you will block his ugly voice, but than I no longer hear you, I am in the dark, living my worst nightmare. I see him, than your beautiful face appears out of nowhere. You block him out. Than you leave me alone with this monster. Or so it seems at the time.



Why does my past haunt me, why can’t I move on with my life? It has been so many decades, and here I am still unable to move from this place. Unable to speak to you, to you tell you I love you.



Why can’t I give up, to quit trying to fight my way out ? But I will, I always will keep on fighting, keep on trying to call your name, keep trying to climb out of this dark, dark prison of my mind, and of my heart.



I realize one day you will quit coming to see me, quit calling the name I never was to you. Quit trying to give me something you thought I never felt.



My greatest fear is that one day I will finally be able to win this fight that I fight. That I will look at the beautiful day, and realize that you will not be there, that you have given up on me. That you have finally said why do I even care. That day I will die, I will become a slave forever. I will fall again and I will not be able to get out. Because, rather you know it or not, you my daughter, are the light of my life, you are my savior.

As I travel down this road, this dark and lonely road, I see myself, the way I use to be. The happy carefree child I use to be. The girl everyone seemed to love. The girl who loved life.



I wonder where has that girl gone. Hard to believe that I was once her. It seems so long ago. A different time, a different place. I am losing the sight of that girl, that carefree and happy girl, every day, every hour it grows dimmer and dimmer. Sometimes I will be glad when she is gone. Maybe than I won’t know what is missing in my life. But somewhere deep inside I know if I completely lose sight of that little girl, there will be no hope left.

I am no longer alone on this road I once followed in the dark. I now have light, guiding me on my journey.



Deep inside I am afraid so very afraid that the people who I have let in, the few who I love and trust with all my heart, and to tell the truth, depend on to help me stay sane on this journey, will grow weary and leave me alone once more. I am afraid that if they do leave me to finish this path alone, I will completely lose my strength to continue.

She is old, mybe eigty, but she is young, full of energy, and spirit. Every morning, afternoon, and evening I see her walk, sometimes with a bag of cans in her hand, sometimes not, but always with a smile on her face.



She seems to have a past that she regrets someone who has made many mistakes.



One Sunday morning I got to church late and had to sit in the second seat to the front, and there she was singing her out with a smile on her face. During the sermon that day I noticed she was crying, as if she was a new Christian, yet when she spoke the preacher he acted as if they had known each other for years.



My mind was wandering all during the service, trying to figure her out, what is her name? How long has she been a Christian? How come she knows the bible like someone who has read it since they were born? What happened to make it where she has regret in her eyes?



After service, I went up to her and she smiled and said "Welcome, I'm Mary Foster." I found out she has been a christian for years but still find joy in the bible. That she has found her destiny, her life.



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I wrote this a few years as a school assingment for my grandmother Mary Foster. I may not agree with the christian religion, but in my opion you do have to respect those who is so strong and devoted in there religion no matter what it is. Someone who loves something greater than themselves and live there life showing it.