I found this off some random site. Dont ask me where because I dont remember. I thought it was pretty, anyway.
'She would rather die a thousand deaths then pawn herself off to a man. That is how she put it, at least. She would never get married. If somebody ever came along that she could even think of marrying, she’d push herself away as if she were terrified of him. But then, maybe she was.
Her story is not something that would come up around a coffee table amongst friends. Perhaps not even amongst enemies. Sometimes she wonders if she even has a story. Most of the time she thinks that she’s done a pretty good job of screwing it up. If there was a being in heaven documenting everything she had done, the pages of her book would be strewn across hell and the cover would lay in pieces.
But then, she gets what she deserves.
Wonderful, merciful Savior… the words from the vocalists seeped through her pores, into her bloodstream, and flowed straight to her soul. “That was my song,” she thought to herself. Even though she was in a room of thousands, it felt like the only person who could see her was God himself. Or herself. Whatever God was, ‘it’ was watching her; and ‘it’ was the only thing she could feel, apart from the tears rushing down her face. Ever since things happened, she hasn’t been quite the same. She cannot sing that song without choking up. Precious redeemer and friend…
One thing she could not let go was how misunderstood she had been. What had hurt her more than that? Nobody has an answer. ‘Well,’ she muttered, her thoughts jumbled and confused. ‘Don’t ask me to do anything for you again, because it is certain I wont.’
She had done plenty to deserve things. Plenty. Nobody believed her when she said that, however. They don’t know who she is. She would never let them know. As much as she hated lying to them, the person they saw was much more flattering then the person she felt like.
She refused to let that matter. However with each passing day she found herself dwindling away into a deep evil pit. She could not find anything else in her life worth waiting for.
She had done all she could do. She did her best, but as usual, her best did not cut it. Thinking of the end makes her relieved. No more stresses, no more traumatic events. What she longed for was death, and to be perfectly honest, she could not wait one second more.'