Trapped inside

She never thought of herself as capable. Everyone else insisted that she was, but inside she felt like a small motherless child. And when disasters struck, as disasters do, the adult part of her disappeared. Then she really was motherless again. How does a child navigate life? she asked herself. They scream for attention. She did not scream; she cried. But just got ignored. Nobody likes a person who cries.

She was alone. Forever alone. The loneliness was so profound she thought it made up her entire being. It took over. A small, lonely, motherless child cries to itself. But that does not accomplish anything. It was, however, a pattern she was caught in. It was like being caught in a giant spider’s web, like a fly not being able to tear itself away from it.

It was a sad life. Nobody really knew her. They all just looked on the outside and saw the fake smile. Heard the ”I’m fine, thanks”, and nobody cared to take a peek inside. But she was trapped on the inside and could not come out.

Inspired by The Daily Post:  Capable

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Infinite wisdom granted

If she could have one wished fulfilled, it would be the gift of infinite wisdom. At least that is what she first thought. Just imagine being able to be so wise as to be able to figure everything out. She would have the answers to all questions, the solutions to all problems. But imagine her infinite loneliness if she was the wisest person in the world. People would queue to press her for answers, but no one would want to befriend a person who knew just about everything. She would become utterly and totally alone. The loneliness would soon kill her, she thought, and regretted her wish.

But, alas, it was too late. Her wish had already been granted, and she was wise beyond her years. In fact, her wisdom knew no boundaries. At first, people were intrigued. And curious. They came to ask her all sorts of questions. Then they became envious and spiteful. People were still queuing because they still wanted to use her wisdom. But they still disregarded what she said and did things their own way. And failed. And when they failed, they blamed her. She lost all her friends, and even her own family shunned her. She was soon the loneliest person on the planet, just as she had predicted.

Inspired by The Daily Post:  Infinite

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Tempted

Of course I was tempted. In my handbag I had the key to a safe, which I knew contained millions of dollars. My boss had entrusted it to me. Because he trusted me. Because he thought I was trustworthy. That, in turn, was the key to why I did not make a run for it and took the money.

My marriage was in shambles anyway; it was just a charade. And not a funny one either. For me it was more like living a nightmare every day. I wanted a divorce anyway and money was the one thing I needed to be able to divorce him, my tormentor.  Plus a fair amount of courage as well, of course.  He tortured me – not physically, though. But God knows that the mental part is even harder to withstand. He belittled me, and he gaslighted me. Everything was on his terms; he could not even stand it if I thought my own thoughts. He was always right, and I had to obey.

I wanted out while there was still a small part of me left that he had not taken over. If only my boss had told me in advance. I could have planned my escape in advance then. Where to go and what to do with the money. How to cover my tracks and pretend I was dead so my husband did not come after me.

But of course, in the end I did not want to let my boss down either. He entrusted millions of dollars with me. He trusted me, which meant he thought I was someone. I was a person to be trusted, a person with good character and judgment and not some worthless piece of crap.

Inspired by The Daily Post: Tempted

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A vicious killer

My body and soul protest – together – in a demonstration against the great demon, alcohol. And no, I’m not the alcoholic. I have a family member who is.

I’m a teetotaller myself. Every little cell in my body, every brain cell and every little inch of my immeasurable soul absolut detest alcohol. I hate the stuff. It’s a vicious killer and a destroyer of families.

I made a cardinal error in trying to forget the hellish year back then. In order to survive at the time, I put the lid on the dustbin, hoping all those feelings would stay there. Stay away from me. I made another one in thinking I could go to an open meeting at AA with my family member. What on earth possessed me?

It was – and it still is and will be for a long time – a flash-back from that year I spent at the bottom of a black pit. Now the pit follows me wherever I go, and it is constantly trying to devour me. And I let it. There’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t have the strength to deal with it. I don’t even want to. At the moment I wish I was dead. Or at least that I could turn back the clock.

Tick, tock… tick, tock…

Inspired by The Daily Post:  Protest

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My Chaotic Life

My life has always been chaotic, I think, and maybe that has formed me into the chaotic person that I am today. Most days it does not bother me much. On the contrary, I think that chaos inspires creativity. It is when you see two things lying together, which are not really supposed to be together that sparks ideas. Sometimes even a few hours of fireworks inside your head. On such an occasion, if I find myself without pens and  paper I will go truly mad. The ideas come even faster than you can write the down, but if you don’t even put them down on paper, all of them will get lost. And you will go mad. Or sad. And dangerous to know. It’s like trying to put the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle together. If a lot of pieces are missing it just will not work.

Chaos lives next door to God, the Father of all Creation, but many people Believe that chaos is actually quite close to hell. Not so. Hell for me would be a white house with white furniture, wiped clean of all existence of life. I cannot imagine anything that would be more aggravating to me. I need to be surrounded by books, papers, words, beads, pieces of cloth etc etc. Table tops should be covered in post, Magazines and so forth. If they are not, the house is dead. Creativity is dead. Only boredom lives.

Inspired by The Daily Post: Chaotic

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Figuring out

”You’re just saying that to disagree with me.” The mother looked at her daughter as if trying to discipline a child.

Elise is over fifty and has rarely agreed with her mother on anything. The danger of growing up with a mother who tried to dictate her every thought was that she did, in fact not really know why she liked a particular piece of clothing, whether it was because she genuinely like it or whether she just liked it because she knew her mother would hate it. She is, in fact, still figuring out who she is.

For years she had dressed the way her mother would, but everything looked frumpy on her because she was way too young for that kinds of clothes. She was still trying to figure herself out, who she was, what her taste in clothes were, whether she was as prejudiced as her mother or not. At least she knew that she liked green; it had been her favourite colour ever since she was a kid. She had saved her weekly allowance and bought herself a pea-green top, which her mother had hated. But she had loved it and grieved when she outgrew it.

Inspired by The Daily Post: Disagree

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The sound of silence

Ah, there is no other such delightful sound as the sound of silence, maybe spiced with the sound of the wind caressing the tree tops and the song of a blackbird singing to the rising sun, for that is the sound of God himself speaking to us. But we are ever too busy to descend to listening. Such is man’s arrogance. It has no limits. Modern man does not even believe in death; he thinks his arrogance will save him from dying. Why else would people drive as they do? I really do not think it is because they are in a hurry to the graveyard, but it is clear that they want to prove a point, which, presumably, then is that they have ever-lasting life. Without listening to God? Not a chance! Maybe, just maybe, if they stopped on a beautiful spot near a lake and sat down for a while, until they could hear the sound of silence. Maybe then. But the thing is, they never do.

Inspired by The Daily Post: Silence

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