Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.
My father was a clown and he changed his name to potato. My mother was in a cult and she changed her name to Joy. Here I stand, unsure of who I am. Wheeling and dealing in this game of life, swaying – swooning. Paying with pain for a life not lived.She was happy in the cult. The first time in her life she felt joy, real Joy. She didn’t have any money to lose to the cult so I wasn’t worried, just happy to see her smile. A heap better than the fits of tearful solace late at night. I lay awake wondering where the pain came from. My sister left to fend for herself. I dreamt of Madonna, in my dreams I was in a video clip and I was amazing.
No kids for me,no weddings, no way fucking kids. My selflessness questioned by my peerring peers. Peer away peeps.
She was happy for years and then her shoulders drooped and her forlorn look came back. I now recognise that look, it’s me standing in front of the mirror. I am her. We are the same. How did fear find me?