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A Small Excerpt From My Autobiography

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A Small Excerpt From My Autobiography Insecurity shrouded me like a cold blanket. I wanted to cry, but the tears evaded my pale cheeks, held back by the numbness, the shrill, shrieking numbness that flowed though my veins chilling my blood. Comprehension escaped my every thought. My entire world had just collapsed instantaneously, like a fragile tower built from a pack of old decrepit playing cards. Yet my skeleton held me tall, erect and fixed to the spot. A manikin's existence seemed comparable to mine. These thoughts and feelings can never be erased. They seem to be impregnated into the very structure of my biological make up, as if they are, in some strange way, a new set of genes. Provoked into action by a sight, sound or smell, each time the grooves of these emotions become etched deeper into my whole existence. Forgiveness being my salvation. Memory my tormentor. My mother's death has left a long lasting rippling effect on my life and I am sure my brother's too. ...read more.


At times, I wonder if I have all the pieces. I wonder if I collated and collected them as it really was. Did I miss something? Was that intentional? Do I really need to add, adjust or amend my visions and knowledge of that day? The ones I have become so accustomed to. Do I wish to discard my comfortable old slippers in exchange for a new pair that may irritate and cause blisters? These questions pose an eternal dilemma within me. I do have a wont, a desirer, a yearning you may call it, a yearning, which burns, burns for the truth. Yet truth has a partner, a partner called fear. This enormous fear hangs over me, like a guillotine hangs above the head of its victim. Would Mother Nature call that self-preservation? A disguised, darken angel, sent to protect me from the ills of truth? My life was totally transformed that spring morning. I was propelled out of a secure, warm, safe and caring environment, into a world that seemed at the time like a cold, stark, lonely and barren existence. ...read more.


My logic at this age made perfect sense, I thought that if I did not see the world, then it did not exist. If the world did not exist, then I was not part of it either. If I were not part of the world, logic would have it, that I must be somewhere else. So if I were somewhere else, then that awful event had not really occurred and pain would no longer consume me. Consequently, if I were no longer in pain, it stood to reason that my mother would still be alive. At this point my body would swiftly transport me back to truth, the grinding of my empty stomach would compel me to open my eyes once more. As a child I always hoped that my eyes would be my betrayer; visions of dreams that could be dispelled and forgotten in a trice. Once again I would ardently shut my eyes, mustering up the entirety of my thoughts and powers in a last ditched attempt to dispel those awful, distressing events, hoping that they were all just feigned. ...read more.

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