Ryoko's Profiles: Ryoko *** Why do I let it happen? Each day, I let you torture me, let you drag me through my own mental anguish and each day, I let it happen freely. I put up no fight, I never cry out 'Stop' or 'No'. I just lay my feelings out and let you trample on them. All of them. All of you. And the worst part, the reason I say nothing about it. The reason that I let this happen day in and day out for weeks, months, Years Is because I see that you're all blind. You don't see the real me, just my masks. My angry mask, my aggressive mask, my I-don't-care mask. This is what I am to you, what you see, what you believe. This is what I have become in your minds, and now, after so many months of wearing a mask I find myself looking in the mirror and not knowing whom I'm staring at. I catch myself touching my face and shivering because at that moment, I see someone who I never wanted to be. At that moment, I see me. I see someone who still wakes up shivering in the night from nightmares about a life that that is at best, indescribable. When I dream, I'm trapped in a world of cold and dark where I have no control. I dream of a time when I was small, too small to fight back, to small to know that what was happening was wrong and that there was another way of life. I remember the beatings, the loss of control, the countless nights where I curled up in my cold sheets and whispered prayers through my sobs that tomorrow he won't be as bad, that tomorrow I won't make him angry and then maybe he won't hit or hurt but I know. I know that I'll do something bad and when I do something bad I must be punished and then he'll come to me and he'll hurt me and hurt me and I don't want it to happen Why is this happening? I don't want it to happen Why is this happening? I didn't mean to I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry Daddy please don't Why is this happening? I'll be better next time I promise oh Daddy please don't I I I WHY IS THIS HAPPENING? That's usually when I wake up screaming with tears in my eyes, shaking and crying for Him to stop, for someone, anyone at all Anyone at all to hear me. Then I look around and see the house, I remember where I am and that what happened is over, once and for all. I keep telling myself that He's dead and that He's never coming back. I keep whispering over and over to myself that the endless nights of pain and fear are behind me, that now I can close my eyes and sleep without being afraid. After awhile, I slowly start to calm down. My breathing becomes normal and I try to lie back down. Then that voice in the back of my mind starts whispering to me, and I slowly start to worry. I start to remember how He would never stop at hurting me physically, but mentally as well. I remember how he would destroy anything that I started to like. People, places, anything. I wasn't allowed to have feelings or emotion, I was made for something more. Something Less. I remember this, and as I do I find myself slowly getting back up. I know that he doesn't like it when I check on him, but I need to. I need to know that he's okay, that he's safe and warm and that nothing bad has happened. I need to know that we're all safe, and that we always will be. When you see me, you see a mask. When you see me, you don't see me. You see someone who drowns her troubles in sake, who would rather take than ask, hit rather than caress, lust rather than love. You don't see... You don't see me when I sit on the roof for countless hours, thinking of how lucky I am to be free, to be able to make my own choices and feel my own feelings. You don't see me as I thank God every day that I have the right to follow what my heart, and not some insane monster, tells me to do. You don't see any of this, so you None of you Understand why I do the things I do. You don't understand why I act wild and reckless, why I prefer to take long naps in the sunshine or run or get drunk or relax or any of the things I do. You all see me as lazy, reckless and uncontrollable. You don't see that I'm not acting like some irresponsible fool but really like a person that's just learning what it is to be free. I'm free. After countless years, I'm finally free from the nightmare prison. I'm free from the pain, the cold, from everything He did to me. I'm free, and nothing will ever change that. Ever. So why do I still wear a mask? Why do I let you treat me like a monster woman? Is it because I still believe that way down deep in the bottom of my heart that eventually I will win out? I still hold on to the hope that you really do care for me, and that some day my feelings will be returned? Is it because after so many years of hiding that now I don't know how to let my true feelings show? Is it because after all we've been through together, all the good and bad times that have made us a family, I still can't bring myself to trust? It's hard to let go when you've been holding on your whole life. It's hard to look at someone and know that all your walls and shields have just come crashing down by that person's smile. It's hard to know that now, after living my whole life in an emotional prison, the door has been left open for me to escape through. It's scary trying to be me, because I've never really known who me is. Am I really that drunken wild woman who would sooner start a fight than enjoy a sunset? Who am I really? Now when I look into a mirror, I see me. I don't see the masks of courage, of wildness, the masks made of stone. I don't see a person made of steel that can never be hurt or broken. I see me. I see someone small; someone tired and scared. I see someone who is unsure how to act or think, someone who doesn't know how to handle emotion because they were never allowed to know what emotion was. I don't see a pillar of stone; instead I see a statue of glass that has been shattered over and over again. I see tears run down my cheeks, but I don't know if they're out of sadness or joy, fear or frustration. I don't know So I wipe them away, and just like that they're gone. And just like that I'm wearing my mask again, because even after all this time, I'm still too scared to let you see. After all this time, I'm not ready to walk through my prison door. After all this time, I'm still not quite ready to let go. After all this time, my grip isn't as tight as it used to be. I'm letting go, slowly but surely. When I'm ready, I'll walk out the door and slam it behind me, locking my old life away forever. When I'm ready, I'll take off my mask and let you see the real me. When I'm ready, I'll let go. Just promise me you'll be there to catch me. *** Tenchi & Co. belong to AIC and Pioneer All C&C to BGlanders@aol.com, please.