Here follows the first of several parts of the last tale of the whole "promise" saga (Can you say "awkward sentence? Sure, I knew you could!). I won't promise that this is the end of the subject, but I think it is.
I was young. I was tired. My spirit was worn, ragged, patched, worn again. I was feeling mighty thin on enthusiasm for life.
I'd endured abuse, abandonment, bullying, and being outcast in my short life - more than most people deal with in eighty years. I knew then and I know now that people have suffered far worse (go read Crystal's story and you'll see), and I have never denied that I had a bizarre, wonderful, very privileged upbringing...but I was just done with the mess.
I was sick, sick, sick of it, all of it, and I wanted out.
I didn't want to die, mind you - I just didn't want to keep living the life I knew, and I couldn't see any other way out of it.
I'd always felt like I had no control over my life - I didn't get to say no, to decide anything. I had to do what was demanded of me because that's what kids did.
I wanted to control something.
I was young.
I went into the woods with a knife and a plan.
Ah, plans. The best laid plans, and all that.
I knelt beneath a fine old tree and felt such a calm, such a peace. It was quiet, and I could smell the sunlight on the pine needles, feel the warmth on my skin, hear traffic in the distance sounding like a river flowing by. Above me, a deeply blue sky patched with bright, white clouds. Oh, the quiet was blissful - if I could make the world this peaceful, this free of the constant noise and rush...if I could make my mind quiet like this...
It was a good, sharp knife. Two edges. Sturdy handle. I knelt and held the handle between my knees, blade up. I was going to run my wrists up it in one go, lengthwise - crosswise would only result in shallow cuts and possible damaged tendons, and I wanted something more than a life full of explanations and pity.
Here, we depart reality a little. Only...we don't. You'll see.
~~~~~
Part two HERE.
Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!
"...besides love, independence of thought is the greatest gift an adult can give a child." - Bryce Courtenay, The Power of One
For old quotes, look here.
For old quotes, look here.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
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7 comments:
Hey Kyddryn
Have visited before and commented on something you wrote about trees (I think) but came back and read this and was so shocked.
And as I got to the bottom of the post there was a picture of your little boy just to the right and I felt even sadder.
I don't know what the circumstances behind this were, but I thought it was a really touching and gripping post and I hope things are good now. x
Holding my breath for the next post
Tara, I remember - you visited the entry about Mum's pond and our tree planting escapades. Welcome back!
Chris, I am evil - I wrote this out in five installments so it'll last most of the week. Also because, as short as it is, it wasn't an easy story to write.
I can't imagine this was easy to write AT ALL. I'm just impressed you're doing it. Waiting with bait-like breath for the next installment...
Your story-installment made me think of this poem, on another of my favourite blogs.
http://rogueprose.blogspot.com/2008/09/phoenix.html
I need to see the next post. Hurry.
I know how hard these stories are to write (I wrote mine last year)....and to read. I read Crystal's back when she was writing it.
Thanks for telling yours.
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