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| July 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Four | |||||||||||
| Cynthia Ruth Lewis | |||||||||||
| END OF THE LINE It makes me dangerously furious when I hear people tell me "Your mother is so sweet!" I simply swallow any resentment that comes up, and reply "Yes, from your standing point, I guess she is." But they could never know that she is the reason I have dark thoughts; why I prefer seclusion over society; why I often fantasize of torturing and killing people I do not know She instilled in me an anger, a frustration I couldn't have formed with normal parents; a fear and dislike of society no one should ever harbor; an inferiority complex no child should have to bear... even after much therapy, the scars still run deep, in spite of digging down into the roots trying to unravel them, trying to erase them. I feel them curdling in my belly, ticking in my head like a bomb, running in my veins like poison... and some of my friends still fail to understand why I choose not to reproduce. |
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