Justice. Reciprocity.
Without love, life is pretty empty and lonely, to some its almost nothing. Without trust, love is choked to death and lies bleeding on the floor. Apathy kills all possibility of passion and trust dwindles in its wake. If you feel or suspect something strange, or off, or less then fabulous, its probably accurate and true, but its good to have an unbiased soundboard for a reality check.
She loved him. They were both old enough to know better, but decided to roll the dice. He romanced her, seduced her and later even confessed to hypnotizing her to win her over. She gave it her all: money, time, heart, soul, creativity, service and did anything he asked just to try and please him. He quickly stopped respecting her, or doing anything that might have pleased her. He did not seem even remotely concerned with her pleasure, or happiness, but used her body, devotion, affection, and sense of submissive service to comfort and justify his self righteous detachment, and emotional abuse. She crumbled.
In the end, at the hardest time of year, in the dark, and cold, and personal hell pit of empty nest, and past sentiments, he told her to go, knowing she had nothing, and then he even scolder her for that. "You should have saved your money". "You should not have made choices I would not have made"... etc. etc. Scorning her devotion, and withholding any approval at all, and throwing her away in the dead of winter, like refuse, after using her up, the minute the rent rate dropped a bit.
"I have been through worse!" she told herself, and him. "You cant hurt me anymore". He had slowly, methodically cut her out of his affection and the various aspects of the life they had been building together, why should it be different now? Of course the trend was going to continue until it extended to physicality. anyone could have predicted that almost to easily.
She was a smart girl, she should have seen it coming. Part of her did, but it didn't fit with everything she knew and believed about him, and what a "great guy" he was reputed to be, so she turned a blind eye, whistling past the graveyard, throwing herself even harder into her commitment to Be present and work it out.
So now in the dead, dark cold, the little match girl once more finds herself alone, unprepared and shivering, as her life force drains pathetically away; trying to sell her tiny sparks of flame to those who do not honor or value her and what she has to offer. Dreaming about warmth, and family, and the wonderful joy of Christmas dinner, and glowing faces holding hands and singing thier heart songs to one another. It is to late to do it differently now. But what can she do now? can she save herself? She cannot dance in the red shoes from the old women, she cannot recapture what has been lost. She has no home and no direction.
What can she do? Where can she go? She has no money and no sense of self preservation. She has no sense of home except the one she has been banished from. How can she survive this round of winters fury without frost bite in her very heart and soul? How can she make better choices in the future? One cannot be commited while holding oneself back or only stepping up halfway. I need to know the answers. If you have them please let them fly forth from your lips, on the wings of compassion. I must know. I must know NOW. This little match girl is me.
