Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Terms of imprisonment

I thought I might give you a little taste of something I wrote to exorcise the odd demon.. :)


Ten years plus. That's what you get for killing someone.

I'm innocent of that. Couldn't even kill myself. I tried to step off that cliff but there were too many loving faces holding me back. I suppose that means I'm worth something even to me.

Purgatory I am still here. What is on the menu today? A nice set of bruises carefully placed not to show? Perhaps just a light sprinkle of pinches and scratches. Well destroyed school work a la consomme of creek soup - a tasty treat in or out of class, or maybe just the usual dose of sneering contempt with a dash of humiliation.

Icing on the cake? Self blame. What did I do wrong? I must have done something....but what?

An invisibility cloak would be useful about now but all I seem to have is a large red beacon on my head saying, "Victim, victim, victim come and get me now."

There's always the library of course but you have to get there first. Past the 'carwash' and the toilets. I'd like to be made of solid steel. Then the carwash crowd would break their knuckles as I slowly walk by. I would be upright and dignified instead of being pushed, punched and kicked from side to side. I would be the boss then. They would have to be my gang. No. I don't want that. I don't want control through fear. Not even for revenge, which, if you ask me, is never that sweet. I'd much rather just be valued for being me. A human being, not a punching bag.

Repeat to yourself, "I will not hate." Say it several times and run for it. After all, you might get lucky. There may be a teacher around. That usually stops the physical stuff. Not the other though. That goes on regardless. In class, out of class, even at home (those dreadful phonecalls).

Isn't my ten year sentence up yet?

How much more do I have to take?

How much more can I take?

I don't know....

Hide girl, hide....

Today's installment (Part One) has come.

Cry inside
Don't let it show,

Just cry and hurt and run
where no one can find you.

viv in nz

As you can see, my school years were painful but going to University made up for that lots. Of course I had to relearn how to be social and a lot of other stuff too. (I'm not quite sure I got that right but at least I tried). I think the worst was dealing with shyness but I did think up a few strategies for that which seemed to work ok. I've always been very grateful to two of my Great Aunts who allowed me to visit from the boarding house every weekend and to the matron who allowed me the freedom to do so. Without them I think I might have gone completely over the edge. I certainly came close.

I think perhaps I should try for a happier subject next.....ummmm.....peak oil anyone? :)

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