AsylumEscapee
Jul 14th, 2002, 12:36 AM
An hours worth of labor. This is my first attempt at writing a story. If you ask me, it's total garbage, but everyone seems to say that about his or her writings. It's a bit morbid, so don't say I didn't warn you. Criticism is welcome. So don't kiss my rear, be brutal.
He kept on cutting, regardless of how he might have felt. His arm he no longer had control of. His inner and basic consciousness had control of him now. His mind blocked off by hate. It was as if he was watching himself through a glass window of sweet ignorance. This was a state of mind only he could have taught himself. But for him to completely shield himself, to pull it off, he had to believe it wasn’t his doing. No, it was all her fault. It was completely her fault.
Listen and understand was all she needed to do, it was her place in his life. Authority figures he did not lack, he did not need, and he did not want. Her ignorance brought all of this. All she had to do was fill her role. But that was not what she wanted, and what she wanted, she believed in. A little innocent boy to accompany her was what she expected. Fate backstabbed her; all she got was a human being to call her son, and this was the outcome. It could not be helped. He didn’t put himself in this position; it couldn’t have been his fault.
This position fate had led them both to was the root of his problems. Everything he hated she could not understand, and everything she could not understand she criticized. They were two paths that couldn’t survive under one roof.
He lacked desire. Nothing possible was interesting to him. Everything he could possibly achieve was meaningless, average, and not worthy of his labor. Everything he could possibly want was just beyond his reach, so he gave up. His grades were poor. His attitude was despicable. His outlook on life reflected his own dilemma. But she refused to see any of it. All she wanted was a little child full of innocence. He knew this, and it filled his heart with guilt. His guilt as a son, should have been her guilt as a mother.
But it was too late for her to see this now. In this confused state, this event was the next natural step in his life. The guilt couldn’t exist regardless of any possible consequences. At that very moment his pain didn’t exist, for their rivalry ended. He kissed her cheek lightly, and tossed the knife away. Slowly he came up from the butchered cadaver, and he quietly whispered “Goodbye mother”.
He kept on cutting, regardless of how he might have felt. His arm he no longer had control of. His inner and basic consciousness had control of him now. His mind blocked off by hate. It was as if he was watching himself through a glass window of sweet ignorance. This was a state of mind only he could have taught himself. But for him to completely shield himself, to pull it off, he had to believe it wasn’t his doing. No, it was all her fault. It was completely her fault.
Listen and understand was all she needed to do, it was her place in his life. Authority figures he did not lack, he did not need, and he did not want. Her ignorance brought all of this. All she had to do was fill her role. But that was not what she wanted, and what she wanted, she believed in. A little innocent boy to accompany her was what she expected. Fate backstabbed her; all she got was a human being to call her son, and this was the outcome. It could not be helped. He didn’t put himself in this position; it couldn’t have been his fault.
This position fate had led them both to was the root of his problems. Everything he hated she could not understand, and everything she could not understand she criticized. They were two paths that couldn’t survive under one roof.
He lacked desire. Nothing possible was interesting to him. Everything he could possibly achieve was meaningless, average, and not worthy of his labor. Everything he could possibly want was just beyond his reach, so he gave up. His grades were poor. His attitude was despicable. His outlook on life reflected his own dilemma. But she refused to see any of it. All she wanted was a little child full of innocence. He knew this, and it filled his heart with guilt. His guilt as a son, should have been her guilt as a mother.
But it was too late for her to see this now. In this confused state, this event was the next natural step in his life. The guilt couldn’t exist regardless of any possible consequences. At that very moment his pain didn’t exist, for their rivalry ended. He kissed her cheek lightly, and tossed the knife away. Slowly he came up from the butchered cadaver, and he quietly whispered “Goodbye mother”.