What He Made Me

Chapter 1 - Memories

Chapter 1 - Memories & Nightmares & Him:

Dear Diary,

 Sometimes life is easy. It's blissful and pretty, beautiful and bright. But, sometimes it's ugly. It twists and turns, throws you into situations where you can't breathe, and your heartbeats so fast you think it's going to explode. It's disgusting and haunting, dark and evil. The truth is, life is a ride, and we're just boarding it for one lifetime, as many before us have and many to come will. The ride of life is a roller-coaster, it has its ups and downs, twists and turns, it's beautiful and ugly moments, and it always has an ending. Everyone's life is different and ergo no-one's ending is exactly the same. I believe that your choices in life will determine this end but no matter what those choices are, know that it will always end one way or another. It slows down and jolts to a stop where upon you swing your legs round unstrap yourself, waving goodbye to life.

But, a wise man once said, ‘The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say when one ends, and where the other begins?' I believe that I have lived many different lives in my lifetime.  Some filled with love and happiness, some with torment and depression. Indeed the boundaries are shadowy and vague; sometimes the sudden change just sneaks up on you, and jumps you from behind. By time you realize, it's too late, you've been sucked into this new life with no turning back. But, the old you isn't really dead, for they are a large part of who you are now. My past has shaped me into the person I am today, and I believe that without the hurt and torment and grief I have suffered I would not be the strong person I know I am today.

Riley.

I remember the night Riley read this out to me, from her diary. I was giving up, the pain of our parent's loss coming to the surface once again and battering down my defenses. She was always the stronger one. She held me tight and sang to me, our mother's lullaby, and when I had stopped crying and pulled myself together some, she read to me this passage from her diary. She's never done this before; her diary was always such a sacred thing. It never left her side. 

 Remembering her words once again, I know there was great truth them, of course. Riley was always right. However, I know that my happiest, most beautiful moments, will always be with her. Therefore, I have accepted the fact that my life can never be truly beautiful again. Everyone knows there is only one peak to a rollercoaster, one peak to a mountain and one peak in everyone's life, before it tumbles to the ground and never reaches the same height again.

Mine was when my whole family was together. Before those shadowy and vague boundaries between life and death stole Riley, Mum and Dad away and left me on the other side. Separated from all those I love, I now have no other choice but to accept that this is it. I have my memories now, and that is that. I bask myself in these memories. Letting them consume my mind, distracting it from the agonizing torment and frustration, whilst I lay here unable to gain control of my own body.

Loveinsom Manor, Surrey, England. Located amongst the stunning countryside, built upon the healthy green grass that covered every landscape viewable from that horizon to the next. Surrounded by tall and proud trees, some incredibly old, some just starting off. Bathed in a heartwarming sunshine, with the sweet clean smell of pure fresh air caressing everyone and everything in its reach. 

Loveinsom Manor was a large but modest home. It was a spelling binding house; made of a pale blue stained marble which smooth rounded edges, in addition to the perfect white framed spotless widows with the large off-white arched door, looked completely in place astride its alluring location. This was my family home. It was perfect.

My mother, Mrs. Isabella Loveinsom, was a captivating woman. Women of true virtue and tender loving as well as loyalty. She was divine and elegant, admirable and most of all, angelic. From her, Riley and I inherited our long golden curly hair, perfectly soft and full of life and volume. Riley loved our hair. But, mother had worn hers in such a marvelous way, that neither Riley nor I were ever able to duplicate her style.