Facing Off

I can't help wondering why we are so averse to pain or death, after watching a crazy scene from a movie recently.

Here is my version of the scene:
A man stands, six foot seven on a roof top, wet with rain, pointing a hand sized gun at the eight year old girl.
Girl: "Will it hurt a lot."
Man: "Just for a second."
Girl: "Ok, I'm ready."
Man: "Now brace yourself. One, two, three," POW! (shoots gun)
The girl flies backwards and hits the cement, disappearing from view.
The night is silence for several seconds.
Then the girl hops up and says, "That wasn't so bad." She pulls open her sweater to look at the bullet imbedded in the black vest.
Man: "So only two more times and we will get burgers at Five Guys and Fries."
Girl: "Okay, but I want a shake with that."
Man: "It's a deal."

***
The scenario haunts me. I watch and fear for the little girls life. A child not aware of death and a man who actually shoots her. I wince at the idea of death. My real fear, however is believing I am worthless. The gun pointing at my head is my vision of what everyone else is thinking about me. The bullet will knock me over with a "Don't take up any more of my air." I wonder if people notice my eyes flying down, left, my limbs bracing for a fall. The worst thing that could happen, would be losing God's eyes locked on mine; his attending to me with a soft smile on his face.

I just read a great novel by Margo Raab called Cures for Heartbreak and in it, the main girl loses her mom at fifteen and regularly worries about her dad's heart disease. She wonders what to do while alone, beyond reading romance novel and dreaming about real love. She meets a few boys who act interested without knowing anything about her, leaving her suspicious of men. Each time she interacts with a hot guy, she tells herself they are not interested in her. At one point there is a "good one" that comes along and invites her into his space. I chuckle at my own desire for them to be together, because it never gets old. It is the fantasy of a relationship where they can say anything and be accepted.  

There are two places that I can relax, journaling and running. Alone, I don't have to wonder what I have done to cause them to be happy or sad and what I need to do to fix them. That game is exhausting. I can't change others, especially, when I don't take care of myself.

As I anticipate this, I become the little eight year old girl locking eyes with you. I say, "reject me." I fall backwards and rest for ten seconds and then stand up and say, "ok again," until I no longer duck at your potential to see me and can listen to the voices that wants our best.