Upstanding Citizen

Here I am still. I am not needed I am needy and I stand aloof from the worst nightmares that they can put me in. Here it is what is it? I am in the throes of becoming a victim again. Aghast afraid and the time was swimming towards certainties that would not be.

I in something called the staking a claim otherwise I would have nothing. Having nothing means being vulnerable. People touched and people not so touched. Humanity has kindly stepped in and stripped me naked; in the nude, I reach out yelling for the things I need.

I need a home to stay in.

I need food.

I do not need soft porn talk.

"There there."

"Lady?"

"I am coming into troubled times my dad will barely tolerant me when I am successful what does it matter if I fail?"

"Last time he had to put me down."

"Put you down where?"

I wonder if she has drunk too much of that tipple she loves so much.

Or has life got through to her?

"I am in trouble as the saying goes and needy of money."

"But let us talk first."

"Go and fluff yourself."

The thing is she will not leave me alone she wants to be certain I do not succeed and that makes her obsessive behavior sick. I am wondering if the sickening feeling I have every time she appears in her various guises is the reality of becoming afraid not of myself but for the likes of her?

She is not a demon she just does not understand. I have been explaining the issue to this woman who calls herself a doctor for many years.

"No, I do understand."

One's pain I think makes one sweat it out in trying for various non-rude words to say what it feels to have the barrier of class and the crassness of such behavior.

"Don't be old fashioned."

"Lady I am not being old-fashioned let me see how you would react."

"Are you mad to say sorry to the lady?" Says dad and I develop an issue with him as well as with her. So they are in my bad novels.

The speeding thoughts go on and there is no let-up. My life is an open notebook scribbled anyhow and the failures and the past successes come to haunt to torment and then take me away from this place.

The winter settled me into some abridged and then flipped-flopped as the birds out in the cold demanding depending on their food.

To make off with the bitterness that may unsettle them further. I am not mad.

This is me abridged.

Madness is being a beast.

Impotent. Almost flailing with rage. There is nothing else that makes me feel. I am impotent with rage.

I am just speaking the true meaning of becoming this woman with less and less power which has got me into trouble. No one can say that I did nothing wrong. No one can speak the whole self with sincerity and respect.

I was deserted and spent and then spat out there was nothing but snow for me.

Cold and the colder it got the harder the fastness of life felt. My poor heart could not take it anymore and nearly flew.

Ice-cold hands always grip me I am frozen.

But the temple has left me and the shadows come and follow as if they are beasts coming to take what they did not earn do not love and their way of life is not mine.

Some people flower late in life some people flower all year round.

"And what does that mean?"

"I was not speaking to you."

"You were hinting this is a case of open hostility."

"I am in trouble."

"Why what possible reason can you have to be? This is England where no one is openly killed and molested."

"That is what you say after all that has happened to the women in the news?"

"I am a woman in the news and this is nonsense now pull yourself together."

"You should be in there in the news speaking about your point of view of what matters."

"Nothing matters but that you should pull your weight and perk up and take a lead on your life."

"Yes, Miss?"

"Mrs."

I am filled with such grief and envy. I lose control. I want to pull myself together but somehow I am stranded in my chair unable to move even.

It is a while later that I can take my leave and hope she did not notice. I had been crippled by emotional intensity. I speak for myself that this happens to me more and more nowadays.

I am filled with self-concern because the thing is eventually the whole rage thing cripples the person. I had seen it with Fidil and now with me.

There is pretend concern everywhere we feel for you and must see to your needs. I am not in need. You must lack a job and everything alone in that house.

"Silly."

"I am nothing of the sort this is my choice."

"You will live to regret it."

"I am."

He had in the end to be hoisted with the hoist and then what did it give him his words did not arrive in the lips as they should. Diabetic, I thought the same as I am as I should not have eaten all the sugared chocolatey stuff. I am displeased with myself I had behaved in a manner not right.

She was thinking of her next appointment so I let her go and left her pleasantly in thought. I did not receive the right feeling I was not feeling right. I was almost afraid to admit it but her smiling facade was getting through. I was becoming less and less able to commit to memory of the appointments and the other stuff. I was making excuses not to leave the house.

"Bye."

"We will talk again about the paranoia."

"Yes, we should," I said unintentionally banging on the door.

"Bloody hell I need another appointment to answer the world question should some people be allowed to become doctors?"

My doctor is concerned she told me she would be always there for me. She was not lying.