Victim of Circumstance | UNDER RIGOROUS EDITING

Prologue - To Hope & To Wish

|| VALERIA ||

THREE MONTHS AGO!

Life...

It's a simple word that ensembles and characterizes the events and activities of human existents. Events—some good, some not—that nurture and define individual characters. Characters that will ultimately allow you to either make or break your dreams.

It's a simple word with unlikely meanings for different people. Some might define it as the way of being alive—a journey that admits both memories of joyful bliss and a dose pain to spice up everything—the ever repetitive cycle of 365 days.

I admire folks with the aforementioned definition of life.

Why?

Because for them their definition derives from the daily enjoyments and all in all blissfulness from having something to live for.

But for me it's a different story because my life is nothing remotely close to being blissful.

I define life as a miserable experience paved with endless suffering, loss and pain. A miserable experience with no warning signs nor a guiding manual to direct you. It's a journey full of enumerable agonizing pitholes filled with venomous snakes and impassable hurdles where you never know when its twist and turns are coming. Twist and turns that wrecks my survival equilibrium into a total imbalance.

My name is Valeria Jaarson and I hate life—my life. I hate everything that involves—revolves around it. I wish with every fiber and bone of my body I was dead. Why? Because mine is not life. It's a daily torture. A daily reminder that I am no one. That I have no one—stranded and lost in this cruel world with absolutely nothing. That as of two months ago I had a place to live. A place I could proudly call my home.

But look at me right now. Parentless, homeless and worthless.

Don't make the same mistake I did, sauntering around thinking all will always be unicorns and rainbows. Things change and they can change at an instant—at the snap of the finger. Never think you are better than the next person—undermining and devaluing their worth. No one is better than the next. We are all human and we are all worthy. Life was, is and will never be fair. And ultimately there are no exceptions to its cruelty.

All walls can and will crumble down on you at the time you least expected. And it can be at the hands of a friend, family, lover or an adversary. But the worse kind is when people you love and thought will always have your back are the ones who enacting the walls to tumble down on you. When they are the ones squeezing and squashing out your last shred of breath until you are nothing but a mere empty, lifeless vessel filling up space like matter, passing days as they come, counting the seconds, minutes and hours, searching for ways to cease the pain.

I was once foolish enough to believe in fairytales where unicorns and rainbows existed. Where everything will always be chocolates and roses. Because it's the result of my foolishness I am rendered to my current status quo, trembling as the cold rain air pierces my skin sending it ablaze with freezing chills as I take refuge under the comfort—not—of the vilest and most disgusting bridge humanly possible.

The drifting cool air doesn't only carry the once spirit lifting, life-inspiring fresh rain breeze but the unbearable nauseating reek of urine and fecal matter. As I rub my arms attempting at warming them, bracing the forces of nature, contemplating my faults to deserve all that have happened to me, tears start flowing anew, leaving a cold-burning sensation in their wind. A broken sob escapes me, making my lips quiver, hands shaking. The pain is too insurmountable and I don't know how to do this anymore. I don't know if I or whether I am strong enough to do this—to survive this.