I adore stories that begin “Once upon a time.” They assume all that is sacred in human nature: love, resiliency, and a happy ending. But, if you’re hoping for a fancy scripted The End at the close of this tale, stop now. You will not find it. True, my life has been full of magic, as has yours. I do not want to ever diminish the wonder that has captivated me at certain crossroads. I, too, can pinpoint moments where God has delivered Himself to me in an effort to strengthen my faith. I’ve known time-bending, pure, unconditional love. I’ve laughed so hard my jaw quivered and my belly ached for days afterward. I’ve held moments too chaste to be anything less than holy.
However, it’s been told to me that hell is not a physical location but, rather, a self-design. It is a place created by my own psyche. If this is true, then the same can be said of heaven. I’ve witnessed heaven, but have been rejected by hell. And trust me when I say there is no torture greater than the devil’s intolerance.
When I was a little girl I didn’t know life could offer such regret. Do I miss the ignorance? To be honest, some times. There are months when I forget to giggle and my eyes don’t shine. But, for the whole, knowing my threshold for life is far more rewarding than make-believe affections. I rely on this knowledge, thrive in it, even. Some would say it is my shield against virtue, for your innocence terrifies me. It is unpredictable and inexperienced. Besides, the cannibal inside me devoured my childhood too long ago and my skin burns in the light, so I shield myself in the shadows. It’s justifiable. Humans are deviant creatures; far more absurd, irrational, and dangerous than any other ever dreamt. This I understand because of my familiarity in shaking hands with the demons. I know their voices, their gaits, and the residue of a defeated soul.
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