Idyllic Studies

In many ways, I think I will never understand what happened to me—what he did to me. I’ll never be able to reconcile it. I’ll never be able to make sense of it. The only answer is for me to move on. To stop caring. To let go.

There is a cliff—I’ve fallen off of it but am standing at its base, fighting the urge to climb back up to the place from which I came. But I can’t go back there. So I turn away.

I’m at the bottom of the cliff. He is far away—perhaps he can see me from atop the cliff, but I can’t see him. In front of me, there are trees and shimmering, golden plains that roll on for forever. It’s quiet down here, and I am alone.

I walk towards a tree—the largest one—and sit under its shade. The ground feels cool under me while the sun peeks through the leaves and dances on my skin. It’s slightly chilly in the shade, but the light is bright and warm around me.

The breeze swirls around me gently. I close my eyes and feel it brush my face softly.

I am safe here. It is quiet, and I am alone.

The scene at the top of the cliff was different—it was rocky and treacherous and full of terror—but I can barely remember it now. When I can, it appears as a movie or someone else’s memory playing in my head. What a crazy world it was up there. But it is my world no more.

Here, I can wander through the plains, let my skin darken in the sun, wake up and go to sleep to the whispering of wildlife. It is quiet here, and I am alone. I hear a laugh, but it is not my laugh–it is the laugh of a young girl with a scenic world in front of her and not a danger to be seen. Then I realize, that girl is me.