My daughter the perfect mistake.
The Elf talked me up in front of ppl. I was the greatest thing since sliced bread. I was a brilliant singer, a novel as a 5 year old reading at a high school level, knowing how to bathe and dress myself before I started school, taught my self to ride a bike and was learning Klingon from Mike. I was barely coordinated though. But I was special as long as there was a crowd. When it was just the Elf and I, i was shit. There was no greater mistake than me, for I was the lingering effects of her biggest mistake, marrying Gerry. I suffered greatly for that for many many years. While to the crowds I was the best daughter to ever be birthed by a woman, at home behind the closed front door my given name was a death knell. Brilliant, talented and worthless. Stupid, disgusting and beautiful. It is no wonder that i became more like my Gemini sign every day as i was given a dual standard as my coat of arms. No wonder I craved attention from the masses and dreaded being alone with only one or two other ppl. It's amazing I didn't turn out MORE fucked than I am. When the Elf put me in therapy and then fed lies to the shrink about me making sure I didn't get a real diagnosis. No shrink could ever help me, not while I ,and they, were under the Elf's influence.
Later in life I became one of those weird goth kids, some 10 years, give or take, after we moved to Florida. I envied the dead. They got peace. Quiet. No one spoke ill of the dead. The Undead were even better. They had super human strength and speed, charisma and Vampires had the gift of Thrall. the power to make anyone do anything they wanted them to. Oh to be counted among their numbers.
I'll catch you up to this point in the next post. I just felt the urge to voice where my brain ended up today after walking these corridors of hell, plumbing the depths of the cesspool that is my youth.
I give thanks now for the power of the written word. These things are such that I cannot speak them with my own tongue. My voice freezes and breath escapes me when I try to give these words life. And yet here with my keys, and my pen I can give them purpose at last. Blessings they are, each centimeter square, that allows me to at last air out the bats in my belfry.
More later. its after five in the morning. I think I'm going to attempt sleep. I might even say my prayers for the first time in some 15 years in hopes that my nightmares of the past don't visit me again tonight.
Goodnight-
~C
Later in life I became one of those weird goth kids, some 10 years, give or take, after we moved to Florida. I envied the dead. They got peace. Quiet. No one spoke ill of the dead. The Undead were even better. They had super human strength and speed, charisma and Vampires had the gift of Thrall. the power to make anyone do anything they wanted them to. Oh to be counted among their numbers.
I'll catch you up to this point in the next post. I just felt the urge to voice where my brain ended up today after walking these corridors of hell, plumbing the depths of the cesspool that is my youth.
I give thanks now for the power of the written word. These things are such that I cannot speak them with my own tongue. My voice freezes and breath escapes me when I try to give these words life. And yet here with my keys, and my pen I can give them purpose at last. Blessings they are, each centimeter square, that allows me to at last air out the bats in my belfry.
More later. its after five in the morning. I think I'm going to attempt sleep. I might even say my prayers for the first time in some 15 years in hopes that my nightmares of the past don't visit me again tonight.
Goodnight-
~C