I have been mistreated my entire life.
Scolded and left to rot in the afternoon sun. A mere afterthought to the person I love. Such is life. Such is I.
You wish to know more of my sorrow? Why? Haven't I suffered enough? No? Even now, at the doorstep of infinity. So be it. Let me tell you my tale, curious one.
I was born to a wealthy family. My father was an oil tycoon and my mother a renowned seamstress. My childhood was spent with servants and helpers and predominantly not my parents. I don't even remember my father's face. My mother on the other hand...
She tried, bless her soul but she tried. Her obligations forbade her from spending much time with her child but at least she tried. My earliest memories are of me sitting by her as she weaved various dresses. She loved her work more than life itself, something I would grow to admire later in life. At the time? I was just a confused, lonely child.
I remember her saying: "Life is like these threads, beautiful but mortal. Able to be separate, or a part of a greater whole." She must've read that in one of her many philosophical books. Took me a long time to understand what she meant.
Mother and Father separated eventually. I didn't know how to feel at the time. Later I was glad. They didn't love each other. They decided to be separate. Better a lonely thread, than an unseemly whole.
I lived with my mother. She soon remarried to an even older gentleman. I remember being furious. I also remember really liking my new father. He was attentive and joyous. In time my feelings of resentment turned to respect and we eventually formed a strong bond that would last us a lifetime.
I was a very curious teen. Very astute and attentive. However, I was also very inept at socializing or expressing myself or my feelings. This made it hard to form connections- hard but not impossible.
This is where I introduce you to my love - Stefan. A lanky, fascinating boy that I really liked. In time, I discovered he liked me as well. And not for my money or famous parents. But for my love of reading, fashion, and curiosity. We soon were an item.
And I was too young, too naive, to see the signs.
I thought I was part of a whole. Our threads intermingle with each other to form a wondrous tapestry. As the years went on, I would notice things. Things I'd brush aside. Things like - him insisting we have Christmas dinner at my place, or him preferring we stay in my room than his. I thought it was just him being comfortable in my space. He was my other thread after all.
When my Step-Father got sick, Stefan showed his true colors. My mother, distraught with her husband's condition, was set upon on all sides - her daughter disappeared, later discovered kidnapped. It was Stefan, and he had been planning to blackmail my mother for years.
Mother of course paid the ransom, but Stefan and his crew were professionals. They demanded more. Mother answered. More still. Mother, beset by grief from her husband's sudden death, received a panic attack. I do not know her condition now.
What I do know is the scorching asphalt. The smell of burning rubber, my love with a gun in his hand, and the merciless sun above. I remember me pleading with him, calling him "My thread." Still, even then, even now. I love him.
What a fool.
I remember the deafening blast of his handgun, and the look in his eyes - sad but committed. Greed. Greed was something I was never taught to see.
Now I see him. As I float toward the endless span of infinity. I see him, his crew, my body. It is all motionless. All still.
Except for you. Has my tale enticed you? Were you expecting something more convoluted? Sorry if my pattern bored you. I am an ugly thread after all.
Now leave me be.
Thank you for reading. 🙏 Hope you are having an amazing day! ❤️
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