Plus - Add Music to Emotion

1 - Her face seems slowly sinking, wasting (The A Team)

Dear Candy,

I have a guilty pleasure. Whenever I can get my hands on strawberry flavored soy milk, I buy a packet of caramel cookies and dip them into the milk. The combination of salty caramel and fruity berries leaves me thirsty for more, and I always have trouble stopping. I know it sounds strange, and I can't remember what brought me to try it in the first place, but I must have had a trigger. Now that I think about triggers, I realize that anything can be one. Every single decision a human being makes has the power to affect someone else on this planet. As I'm sitting in a heated room, with enough to eat and drink in the cupboards, I can't help but wonder where you are right now. Are you out on the streets, all alone and freezing? Or are you with a friend to keep you warm through laughter? Maybe you even got "lucky", and you'll get to spend the night in a fancy hotel room.

Our definitions of lucky are as different as our lives, and yet we briefly met a few summers ago when I visited the city you call home, even though you don't have a permanent place to live there. I wonder if you remember me, or if I was just one of many tourists passing by each day. A little girl, not much younger than you, triggering your envy vein because she had the freedom to laugh openly with her friends, the money to play a few slot machines, and even the courage to fall in love.

There we are again, back to triggers. Who was yours? Who is responsible for setting you off all those years ago? I refuse to believe that you should be the only exception in a world full of triggers.

I think when you're waiting to be picked, you imagine the lives of strangers passing you by. You make up whole personalities in your mind, giving them habits and jobs and favorite colors. You paint these picture recklessly, without care, because even if they do pick you and you get to spend time with them, there is no way you will ever find out about those preferences. Most of them don't even tell you their name.

It has always stuck with me, the way strangers treat you. It is sad and heartbreaking to watch, and it suggests a harshness to life that others don't even think about. They don't care about you, and you know it. The only thought on their minds is their own egocentric life, their own problems and worries overshadowing yours.

They treat you like you're worth nothing, and I can see how it brings you down. Your spirit used to shine through your eyes, blinding others with your smile. Your long blond hair caught the sun and held it hostage between those strands, making everybody feel like on vacation when talking to you. When you entered a room, all the heads turned. When you made a joke, all the hearts laughed.

What happened to that girl? What triggered her to become a woman with empty eyes, dull hair and a forced smile? Was it the way your step dad treated you, with rough hands and unforgiving eyes? Or how your mom turned her head when he raised his hand? Did you run away because your sister did the same, and did you hope to find a better life when you said goodbye to the four walls that you never cared to call home?

When I first saw you, I immediately took in the crease between your eyebrows. It seemed to be permanently etched into your skin, telling a story of weeks and months without genuine laughter. I imagine it only got deeper when you discovered your guilty pleasure on a cold December night. It looked white and pure, as innocent as the flour your mom used to create her famous apple pie, back when everything was different. Just like the apple pie, it was supposed to make you happy for a while, to let you forget all your troubles. Miraculously, that's exactly what it did. And just like your mom's apple pie, it kept you coming back for seconds.