It was a toxic suffocation from the beginning. But I chose to ignore it. The warning signs were there, blaring words telling me to get out and protect myself before anything happened. But you calmed me. You spoke to the demons that haunted me and chased away the anxiety that plagued my body. You made me so certain that, this undefined relationship we shared was something that had long breached friendship and was simply clambering around for more. Our hugs would soothe me even after the most tumultuous day and you would whisper how nice it felt to be wrapped in familiar arms that felt like home. That statement boggled my mind and made me understand why everything with you was alright. Everything was calm, nothing hurt and I felt like I could take on the world. Except you didn’t feel like home - you were home.
Home without a warning home packed up and left. Moved to the other side of the country and left me to fend for myself, if that was possible. Home took my strength as it found another occupant who publicised their new residence as I watched home from a distance finally feeling like what I’d become. I was homeless but my home was still there but caring for someone else. That when the demons returned. Except these were new and constantly reminded me of the home I had lost. Reminded me of exactly what the perfect tenant should have been like. It was my fault that I no longer had a home and even now the pain still eats away at me as I close my eyes and try to forget the comfort and safety I was provided before I let it slip through my fingers. If I had noticed what was happening I would have help on harder, fought harder to keep that sense of belonging with me.
Knowledge is knowing that Frankenstein is not the monster.
Wisdom is knowing that Frankenstein is the monster.
I said many ignorant people nowadays thought ‘Frankenstein’ was the name of the monster, and not of the scientist who created him. Mary Shelley said, ‘That’s not so ignorant after all. There are two monsters in my story, not one. And one of them, the scientist, is indeed named Frankenstein.’
(Kurt Vonnegut)
It makes you want to give Mary Shelley a high five. I’m glad she knew how brilliant she was all along.
Proof once again that women know where shit is at. People argue nature versus nurture and she was already saying it doesn’t mean shit in 1818. You are your choices; ‘cool motive still murder’ at it’s finest.
