From the moment I was created, my life was sewn into another's. Forced out of my hand and delivered on a silver platter with decorative curls to my parents.
My own words weren't mine; they were theirs, and my image represented them, their future, past, and present. All I would do would reflect directly onto them because at one point I was directly a part of them, and now that I'm out into the world, I must obey.
I must follow every instruction of theirs so that I may be successful and live a proper life as I should do. For the ones who were 'caring' enough to create me, chose me, not the other way around, for the trauma they passed to me is mine to spread and leak like a sore for all who cross me.
My wounds, whether mental or physical, are caused by erratic chaos, to seep into the blood of others and cause the turmoil that my parents experienced before the creation of me.
I should be satisfied with whatever gift they give me because it is not owed to me, yet deep in my heart, there is an enormous hollow feeling. A fester that has jagged flesh ready to be peeled upon but never touched, and even though I am supposed to listen to every word…
Something within rebels their words like fire to water, itches my skin every time I say, 'yes' when I mean 'no'. Burns my brain when I smile when I want to cry, keeping in all the tears so that I may spare them from pity by drowning my own insides. Letting myself fall into the ocean with no safety net, praying that it would wash away the burden I am to my parents.
Oh, how the bees envy the single sting I receive at each blow of affection I crave. Each good word I beg to hear from my caregivers, but in turn get so much less. Feeling my veins tangle from the simple disappointment, I admit as no simple dose of caffeine could ever suffice. Nor any sweet treat that is perfectly to my liking, even though tasty, yet not mentally healing.
I could try to fill my day with tasks, but that would only be temporary, not long-term in the slightest, and for my simple brain, it would forever be craving that perfect feeling. The urge to be the perfect child, daughter, so that they may say good things about you and not argue about you.
About what you're doing wrong and how you need a push in the right direction, how the medicine isn't strong enough. Or that they can't fathom you coming from them because of all the weakness you possess in your head. How your emotions are drawn in any direction, depending on the words spoken.
Like a glass bottle, you are definitely vulnerable, easily influenced, and malleable.
Yet still it is not enough and will never be enough, spinning like a broken record. Forever trying to remember the right tune, but you won't because you're broken.
You have no water to pour in your cup, and you wait for things to go the way you want. Yet the world simply doesn't work like that and it never will.
I stare out past the gate watching the waves crash upon each other, like swans they've delicate and fragile. Clear and blue with no flaws eating at their intangible bones, free to soar and disappear when they want to. I wonder how it feels to not have to be perfect, to not have to worry.
"I heard your pool has salt water imported straight from the ocean, does it invoke a similar feeling as the same thing?"
Lady.Bellum sighed, leaning back in her chair and I simply smile, "Not at all, it is more of a preference is all, nothing will ever replace the real thing."
Bertram took a deep breath, "Maybe, not but, I think for people who prefer the indoors it's one of the best substitutes." He put his hands together and reached out to the sky, "Well, combined with the natural sunlight and the wind of course."
Lady.Bellum, turned her eyes to me, it seemed like she wanted to say something but she didn't instead her eyes turned to the sea. Lingering on the crystal waves for a moment before turning back to her brother, eyebrows shifting down.
It was quiet for a moment, still and immobile.
The hum of nature's call was all we could hear before Bertram broke the silence again, "We, have a chlorine filled pool and I would prefer salt water but of course I suppose I will have to wait."
"Wait until??" "Until, I'm in charge of things, well my sister of course, but I suppose that when I'm married, I figured I'd still have a say in a few share things of my birth home."
"Birth home?" An eyebrow of mine raised as Lady.Bellum jumped into the conversation, "It's my brother's weird way of saying the house he was born in, well we both were. But as the eldest I get to take over everything, my brother is of course my back up. If anything shall happen to me."
She narrowed her eyes at me and then her brother, "Or of course, if I don't marry or have an heir and my brother does, then he could be up for my position, and I would default as his back-up."
She shuffled in her seat, sitting up and blinking back, "I suppose you're lucky though, huh?You are the only heir no matter what, no substitutes in your case."
I turned my head to the side, licking my teeth, "Is that really a good thing though?"
"You have no competition, well unless you suddenly sink it all, then I guess we would be on top huh?" She smiled while taking a few pieces of fruit and snacking on them.
"Well, I suppose, at least one of you though, the other would just be a substitute, am I right?"