The Girl Who Decorated Her Grave

Did you hear about the girl who was building her own house? She had drawn up the plans all by herself. From a young age she dreamed and dreamed of what this house could be. She wrote it down, talked about it to anyone who would listen, and swore one day, she would build this dream house.

And then the day finally came! She grabbed her tools with her head held high and marched towards where the foundation would lie. Surrounded, she was, by friends and family cheering her on. They all proudly watched as she took a shovel and broke that first bit of dirt. Day and night she worked, and at first, all seemed well. Sometimes she even had her friends and family help. But when they picked up any tool other than a shovel, she didn't want them around. Little by little, she stopped asking for help and slowly but surely, they struggled to cheer her on. Because as day and night passed, she never stopped working, but everyone began to notice, she wasn't building... she was digging.

Lower

and

lower

and

lower

Many offered her tools and some even said, "Wait, this isn't how you build a house." But that only made her mad. She didn't stop. She became quieter, telling less and less people of her house building plans. Some friends and family left, some tried to stay and silently watch while she continued to work. Some found enough courage to try and offer her a new tool, and she would shut them down in anger, screaming, "You don't understand! This is my plan!"

So they threw up their hands and said, "If she's happy, that's all we really need."

She had to be about six feet beneath when an old friend up on the surface came looking down, "What are you doing?" the friend frowned.

"I am decorating." She frantically said, hanging up paintings, then curtains, then shelving, then more paintings again.

"Why?" the friend called out.

"I need to find a way to enjoy this house. It is nothing like I imagined, I am hoping this will help."

"Why don't you just come on up and out, and try building a new house?" The friend said, reaching out her hand.

She shook her head, "I can't leave. I can't get out."

"There is a ladder right over there. It is a little work, but you can get out." The friend said, motioning to a ladder placed by her loved ones when they were trying to help.

"I don't want to spend my time building something new when I gave this my all. I spent so much time here, building something new would take too long,"she said, adjusting a new painting on the wall.

"But this isn't what you wanted or dreamed. You aren't even you anymore, I'm watching you even struggle to breath!" The friend said, reaching out her hand once again.

She ignored her friend as she reached for more things to decorate her walls. The friend watched for sometime, often hearing, "See! Isn't this great!" only to see dirt walls covered by just another pretty thing.

After enough time, the friend couldn't take it, and decided it was best for her to walk away, but before she could move, she noticed a tombstone that read,

"Here she lies

In her dream that died

A home with no love or light

And no matter how hard she fights

All we can say

Is she became

The girl who decorated her grave"