The Guardians Called Guards.

Someone called Mum once said that time does not matter when you are wallowing in anguish and anger. They have titles that are not my mum or dad they just have titles that real parents gave them in order to avoid confusion.

"Flesh and blood cannot deal with this."

" Get upbeat girl bare your arse and speak nicely,"

Does your mother explain too much as if her whole story is gushing out like blood? Does she torture the very innocence she had lost when she was about your own age?

"Get lost in this where did you start this epic?" Shouts a sub-editor into doing her own time schedule and sheer business is the key here.

"Who is there destroying my concerns?"

"Stop this complaining."

"I am seeking advice from the advice bureau."

"Then she was silenced."

"Who was silenced?"

"Mother was."

"Too much information Zeks you must not speak about all that ever again."

For some reason, she just quieted down as if struck by a blow.

I did not understand.

"Pathetic was the word."

She did not know what she said because she destroyed us all.

"Get brisk and end this." The editor said.

That is when I decided not to grow up.

Determined.

Like a worm, I am cut and then reborn.

When the same things repeat themselves. Repeat the prescription oh we are so amused.

As you look at the body aged and nothing to show for it.

Life died.

Mother went mad.

"We want upbeat cocky characters."

"Happily ever after or a resolution."

Where did it begin and I do not know where the end is?

The mindset is different and even difficult to understand we must dissect the failed author and know where she went wrong.

"We know it is difficult she is not us that is why she is not a success."

"Well change her into us?"

"Let us do it."

I went for her.

I had to think I had to feel why. Because I was leading towards something that nagged me. I did not want that what I needed was an editor. Not someone to give me a makeover.

I listed everyone that I liked. They hate me I thought. I began to run.

From unicorns.

From the umbrella from this and that.

My naivety was destructive they told me plain as plain I was too honest or innocent or a ham writer.

Someone just said it out loud you came from gas.

One was saying we came from storks.

Then of course they saw the joke. I was that much of a joke.

But then what did matter who cared? It is all trash money and no beauty comes from Mida's touch. One cannot eat it. When one touches Midas one becomes gold.

I became the best listener in the world.

They even disliked my listening.

Own truths so many of the truism is wrong. and Wrong answers in the wrong universe. I did not find their answers. I found my own.

In the doldrums of presents. Heavy hands make light work. It gets worse every day.

"We were only having a laugh."

I am a loner.

People pity or even ignore me.

I push them away because they are people who are curious about me. My life is up for sale and without the right price, I do not divulge the things that mean a lot. I am a con woman writing about the storms of listening I had to do. Give me some credit.

Eventually, I found out the hard way. I listened while they were speaking and they were saying all sorts of stuff.

Dad was not the dad and the children were half relatives. The connections got lost. I Flew outside the curtains.

"The inheritance."

Some curiosity and not much else and to make it worse there is nothing to look forward to but bent knees and bent hands.

"We have gold."

"I know girls have a good laugh."

"Good, I thought. That should hurt got the last word in.

We have composure we have social amiability we have the lot.

"We are the beasties when it comes to writing,"

"Bestsellers and money more money than we ever made from the other jobs," They gush at their leaders.

"We are so so much grateful to our leaders."