I cried myself to sleep last night.

I watched a movie called Water yesterday. It was set in India in 1938. India was still ruled by England but Gandhi and his followers are beginning to "fight" for independence. It begins with a little girl named Chuyia, who is eight years old, being widowed. Her husband was much older than she was and so he died and she was sent to live in the widows' house. Widows had three options, to burn on their husbands' burial pyre, to live in the window compound, never to remarry, but instead live a live of discipline, or to marry their husbands' younger brother. This little girl was so lovable and spunky. I loved watching it in the beginning because she was so cute and so funny. You couldn't help but fall in love with this character. Chuyia meets another widow who is in her 20s. Her name is Kalyani and she falls in love with a man, Narayan. Kalyani is very beautiful and so one of the women in change of the widows' house forces her to prostitute herself out to a rich man in the city so that the house will be provided for. Kalyani and Narayan plan to be married but as he is taking her to meet his family, she asks who his father is. His father is a man who she is forced to sleep with, and so she tells him to turn around. She tries to go back to the window's house, even though she was kicked out. The woman in charge tells her that she can go to Narayan's father if she wants to come back. Kalyani cannot handle that and in desperation, she drowns herself. Because Kalyani is dead, the woman in charge needs someone to prostitute out to the Narayan's father so that they continue to recieve his support. She tells Chuyia that she is sending her home and sends her to the house. Chuyia is told that she is there to play and then they will take her home. Chuyia walks into Narayan's father's room and says, "I'm here to play." with all the innocence of an eight year old little girl. When Chuyia comes back she is bruised and can't even move. One of the other ladies puts her on a train with Narayan to get her away from the widows' house, so it ends "happily".

Last night I couldn't stop thinking about that precious, innocent little girl. I tried to tell myself 'it's just a movie'. But it's not. I couldn't stop crying. I can't remember the last time I cried that hard and that long; My eyes were all red and puffy and I looked crazy. My heart was completely broken over the complete and utter injustice and I just couldn't get over it, all I could do was cry and cry. I was /still am/ at a loss of what to even do. I kept thinking, "That was absolutely unjust. How could God let little innocent girls be raped?" But at the same time, I didn't question His goodness. It's a strange place to be, to know that God is completely good and completely in control, but to know that horrible, terrible things happen all over the world. And it makes me wonder why my life's been so good, perfect really. How is it just that 8 year olds, little baby children are abused and I have had a beautiful existence with no major road bumps to speak of? Not that I'm wishing for such things, but couldn't the horror be spread out?

I just don't know. I might never get over it. And I hope I don't because that would mean that I was desensitized.

currently listening to: Terminal, Foster; train sounds
real time: 1:23
currently needing to: fold laundry, and fill out my application for a street parking permit