The Place That Once Held Desires

By Kenisha Kapur

If my childlike self could see me right now, she would cry, to say the least. 

Little Élodie wanted to be a princess. Little Élodie wanted to wear elaborate dresses and twirl in front of the mirror, and have tea parties with princesses across the globe. Little Élodie wanted a castle with a high canopy bed and a never-ending wardrobe. Little Élodie wanted her own private jet so she could travel the world with her royal cat. Could you blame Little Élodie? She was just a seven-year-old girl who wanted to be magical.

If teenage me saw me right now, she would yell and throw and burn, to say the least.

Teenage Élodie wanted a perfect face - the one guys looked at. Teenage Élodie wanted friends who were cool but not cool enough to do the wrong things. Teenage Élodie wanted a boyfriend who saw something past her body. Teenage Élodie wanted the things people on her phone had. Could you blame Teenage Élodie? She was just a sixteen-year-old girl who wanted to remember her golden years being golden and not a faded grey.

If the young woman I once was, saw the one I’ve now become, she would feel like jumping from the edge of the earth, to say the least.

Young Élodie wanted to go to college and meet new people. Young Élodie wanted a job that paid her more than what she was worth. Young Élodie wanted to have a big house and expensive things. Young Élodie wanted to fall in love and start a family. Young Élodie wanted to be successful and well-known. Could you blame Young Élodie? She was just a twenty-five-year-old woman who wanted a fancy life for herself.

If my middle-aged self, saw me right now, she would scream at her kids and reach for the pills in the cabinet, to say the least.

Middle-aged Élodie wanted the support of a loving husband. Middle-aged Élodie wanted to give her children the best life she possibly could. Middle-aged Élodie wanted to read novels in her free time and maybe pick up a hobby. Middle-aged Élodie wanted her parents to be proud, the slightest bit proud of her for making her way into the world. Middle-aged Élodie wanted recognition. Could you blame Middle-aged Élodie? She was just a forty-one-year-old woman who wanted to do everything at once.

At every stage of my life, I have wanted things. Wanting was always easy. But delivering, keeping up the promises I made to myself, wasn’t something I could do. So, every Élodie I have known seems to be disappointed in me for not giving her what she wished for.

The me right now wanted an escape. A refuge from my past versions that kept tugging at me. I had fallen into a void. Numbness settled in my mind and built a home. Hopelessness whispered things into my ears. Things like, “there’s nothing left for you.” 

But the reason my earlier self would feel let down upon seeing me right now is that I held no hope in my eyes but a knife in my arms. I gripped the sharp weapon with both my cold hands and held it close to my chest. I had always thought I would die of old age.

May the girl who played and the girl who partied and the woman who cared and the woman who didn’t rest in peace.

I plunged the knife into the left side of my chest - the place that once held desires.

By Kenisha Kapur