It's like a lump in your throat, a golf-sized lump you can't shift no matter how many times you swallow, take deep breaths or try to shift using your fingers. My shaking fingers hopelessly try to ease the tightening of my throat and I feel my stomach beginning to burn.
White-hot burning anger which overwhelms my entire reaching a crescendo in my head.
Years of suppressed anger I've held back for years for the sake of peace, of a quiet life for others while all this time I've become something I don't even recognise.
I feel a tugging on my sleeve. I close my eyes because I know exactly who it is. I look around in fear. I swear to God it comes at the worst times.
Not now, I can't deal with this right now, I tell myself. Ignore it, it'll get the message and go away.
My skin feels hot, like someone's holding a flame up to me and my mouth feels dry. My breath is shallow as I hold back the hot stinging sensation behind my eyes. A whimper comes from the depths of my throat as the golf ball gives way.
The tugging continues with a low moaning and whining. The whining gets louder and I feel the child run in front of me and grab my hands. It pulls my hands down with such ferocity that my knees give way.
"Look at me!" the child cries. "Why won't you look at me?"
I slowly raise my eyes and my stomach recoils in shock. The child has changed again but its eyes are still the same. Beautiful burning brown eyes meet mine as I force myself to look at this child.
Its hair has grown longer and darker, the curls have tightened but the once pink smiling lips are now pinched, dry and cracked.
"Please," it begs. "Please listen to me, I can't stay here anymore, it's killing you."
I push the child off me but it grabs my left hand and screams: "I can't do this anymore! Look what's happening to you! You're going mad!"
I try to take my hand back but the child's grip is strong. It's been getting stronger as the years have gone by.
It's almost as strong as I am.
"Shut up," I tell it. "Just shut up!"
"No!" the child shouts with tears in its eyes. "Don't you feel like you're dying a little every day as well?"
A single tear falls down my cheek but I keep my face expressionless. It's talking shit again, it always talks shit.
"I'm not talking shit," the child replies. "After all this time you still think that? You're the one talking shit."
I try to stand up but the child jumps in front of me and grabs my knees:
"Please, please listen to me. You never listen to me, you don't care anymore. You of all people know how that feels. Don't you? You know exactly how it feels to be alone?"
I stay quiet as I feel myself start to shake.
"You don't know what you're talking about," I say firmly. "You're a child."
"But I'm you!" the child screams. "We have the same eyes, the same face, the same feelings. I am you!"
"No," I say standing up. "No."
"I am a reflection of everything you see and feel. I know what you feel because I feel it too. I am the part of you that you ignore."
I close my eyes as more tears fall. The child wipes the tears from my face: "It's true, you know it is. It's been this way for years."
I lift my eyes to its once chubby face and realise the similarity we have in our faces. The same brown eyes, same nose, same lips and same chin - it's uncanny.
The child gently smiles through its tears: "Please, it's killing you. We can leave this place. I'll go and never come back."
My head feels heavy and my eyelids droop. God, it feels like someone's pummeling the four walls of my skull. The child puts its hands on my cheeks and kisses my forehead.
"I'm sorry," it tearfully murmurs. "I never meant to hurt you. But you never listen to me. Please, let's go. I swear I'll be good. I promise I won't ever hurt you again. I swear."
White-hot burning anger which overwhelms my entire reaching a crescendo in my head.
Years of suppressed anger I've held back for years for the sake of peace, of a quiet life for others while all this time I've become something I don't even recognise.
I feel a tugging on my sleeve. I close my eyes because I know exactly who it is. I look around in fear. I swear to God it comes at the worst times.
Not now, I can't deal with this right now, I tell myself. Ignore it, it'll get the message and go away.
My skin feels hot, like someone's holding a flame up to me and my mouth feels dry. My breath is shallow as I hold back the hot stinging sensation behind my eyes. A whimper comes from the depths of my throat as the golf ball gives way.
The tugging continues with a low moaning and whining. The whining gets louder and I feel the child run in front of me and grab my hands. It pulls my hands down with such ferocity that my knees give way.
"Look at me!" the child cries. "Why won't you look at me?"
I slowly raise my eyes and my stomach recoils in shock. The child has changed again but its eyes are still the same. Beautiful burning brown eyes meet mine as I force myself to look at this child.
Its hair has grown longer and darker, the curls have tightened but the once pink smiling lips are now pinched, dry and cracked.
"Please," it begs. "Please listen to me, I can't stay here anymore, it's killing you."
I push the child off me but it grabs my left hand and screams: "I can't do this anymore! Look what's happening to you! You're going mad!"
I try to take my hand back but the child's grip is strong. It's been getting stronger as the years have gone by.
It's almost as strong as I am.
"Shut up," I tell it. "Just shut up!"
"No!" the child shouts with tears in its eyes. "Don't you feel like you're dying a little every day as well?"
A single tear falls down my cheek but I keep my face expressionless. It's talking shit again, it always talks shit.
"I'm not talking shit," the child replies. "After all this time you still think that? You're the one talking shit."
I try to stand up but the child jumps in front of me and grabs my knees:
"Please, please listen to me. You never listen to me, you don't care anymore. You of all people know how that feels. Don't you? You know exactly how it feels to be alone?"
I stay quiet as I feel myself start to shake.
"You don't know what you're talking about," I say firmly. "You're a child."
"But I'm you!" the child screams. "We have the same eyes, the same face, the same feelings. I am you!"
"No," I say standing up. "No."
"I am a reflection of everything you see and feel. I know what you feel because I feel it too. I am the part of you that you ignore."
I close my eyes as more tears fall. The child wipes the tears from my face: "It's true, you know it is. It's been this way for years."
I lift my eyes to its once chubby face and realise the similarity we have in our faces. The same brown eyes, same nose, same lips and same chin - it's uncanny.
The child gently smiles through its tears: "Please, it's killing you. We can leave this place. I'll go and never come back."
My head feels heavy and my eyelids droop. God, it feels like someone's pummeling the four walls of my skull. The child puts its hands on my cheeks and kisses my forehead.
"I'm sorry," it tearfully murmurs. "I never meant to hurt you. But you never listen to me. Please, let's go. I swear I'll be good. I promise I won't ever hurt you again. I swear."
1 comment:
Your writing is very emotive. I had to pause the music I was listening to mid-way through reading this because it was taking away from the writing.
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