Being Damsel
Chapter 1
I’ve never met anyone with my name yet here in New York City. I’ve lived here my entire life and my fantasy has always been to live out my dreams in SoHo. It was the home of my favorite, The Scholastic Store, filled with whimsical books that use to inspire me as a little girl. It was the only store I could shop in and purchase things no one else had. I wasn't skinny enough to shop the trends, but I could always leave with a good book that was a perfect fit. I’ve always loved the cobble stone streets that outlined the concrete jungle where dreams were made. Everyone said, if you could survive here, you could make it anywhere, but I was clearly on life support.
I cant say that living each day is something I did in my own strength. It was like I was standing still, watching everything and everyone else move around me. I can remember the night I had looked to the left and saw an intravenous line pressed firmly into my arm by my own thoughts, monitored by society and everyone that I thought had counted me out. I realized how sorry I really was. My life was powered by their words, yet I stood still and powerless. I wanted to move, but my command center had yet to become inspired by my beating heart. I needed a muse. I needed to be inspired, but where was the inspiration. I didn't need an IV, I needed a transfusion.
I always wondered why my father named me Damsel. Damsel Adannaya Wright to be a bit more precise. With my first name meaning unmarried young woman and my middle name meaning “her fathers daughter,” I was doomed at birth. My name validated me in the worse way, or so I thought. I was just a daughter, unmarried and unimportant. I was just another girl walking through New York City with a boring story, lost in my own thoughts and bombarded with the noise of a city that never went to sleep. Social media would often take my mind off of what made the most sense. I would find myself curled up in the bed poking away at my iPad screen, squinting my eyes and scrolling through the newsfeed to see if anyone else was just as pitiful as I was. If they appeared to be having fun, I would almost bet they were merely putting on a show for social media enthusiast. I needed their smiles and instantaneous status updates to make me feel alive, and in the cut, not realizing how cut off I really was. Then it hit me. I noticed that even if my “friends” on Facebook were “faking” they were still doing a lot better than I was. They were alive.
I wanted to be alive too, but how. I could hear the sound of my life support monitor beeping, and in my mind, I felt as if it were only a matter of time before that sound went away indefinitely. I had to make a choice, but I didn't know where to begin. I asked myself, in order to live what do you need, and yes, I answered thereafter. I said to myself, I only needed a beating heart, a working brain, a dream and about 47 breaths per minute. As I processed the items I had just listed, I made an astonishing discovery. Each item was attainable, and more than one on the list was already packed away. They were in a bag in the corner of my room underneath a pile of journals I had written in. I walked over to the corner and picked up a one of the 5 journals I had kept tucked away. I opened it up and began to smile. I closed my eyes and I could picture where I was and what I was feeling as I wrote on every page. I found myself falling in love again for the very first time. I felt pain, I felt hurt, I felt love and I felt hope. Back when I was 16, I understood heartbreak, but I was resilient. Nothing bothered me, ever. I walked away from guys as if I were choosing another restaurant to dine in after learning of the hour long wait before being seated. My hope was built on my own potential and my own will. I had control of my thoughts and I had control over my reactions. I was tough yet sensitive. I was the girl I always wanted to be. Question is, what happen to that girl? As I sat in silence I could hear a voice say, “You’ll never know where you’re going until you understand how far you’ve come.” I nodded my head in agreement and continued to turn each page.
My mom called to me shortly as I was turning page 56. She had finished making dinner and knew that it would annoy me if she screamed my name instead of texting. I hated when my mom cooked. My dad always made better meals, but this was her week to cook since my dad worked nights every other week. I was stuck with my mom and I hated it. I would always make sure to eat after school before I’d hop on the train home. I would either have a slice, Chinese, McDonalds or a Hot Dog from Grays Papaya. I could survive on a 5.00 a day budget with ease. My dad made sure he put a 5 dollar bill underneath my pillow every morning before he’d leave for work. He was my wake up call. He’d sit at the foot of my bed and give my blanket a gentle tug, sweetly calling out to me. He’d say Naya, its time to wake up. I lived for that moment and the kiss my forehead to assure me he’d be home before I went to bed. He was my first love, and my best friend. I could tell him any and everything. I was a daddy’s girl to say the least. I would have taken him to prom if I could, but I would have been the talk of the century. No one would ever understand the bond we shared, not even my mother.
Chapter 2
Book One was almost all of my freshman year of high school. I was taken back to my very first day. I got off the escalator and looked for room 451. I had voice 1 first thing in the morning, and I was excited. No one even knew I could sing, so my acceptance was a bit of a surprise. I stood along side the door waiting for my teacher to arrive and decided to sit down and wait instead. Shortly after I sat down, a beautiful, tall and skinny, dark-skinned girl came over and asked me if I was was waiting for Professor Ricks. I smiled and said yes. She told me her name was Makayla......
