The Prisoners Of My Mind

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Right in the hollow of my mind, where the darkness loomed a prison was built. Its purpose was to capture and torture. In this prison, prisoners were in chains and their chance of escape was slim.

The majority of the inmates had served their time and walked to freedom through the open gate. Others were not so lucky, they remain locked up, they served time with no numbers.

Every time my feeling was touched, an arrest took place. I played a victim card. I was the one who hurt the most. The one whose right was infringed. The victim whose wound never healed. However, the space of this prison was minute, it wasn’t big enough for the number of daily arrests.

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When The Table Turns

There was a young lady I worked with some years ago. She came to work with neatly packed sandwiches lovingly prepared by her mother. She was open about the stress her mother went through in making sure she had something to eat for lunch at work every single day.

At the time, I found it annoying. For crying out loud, this young lady was on placement and in her late teen. How on earth would her mother prepared lunch for her when she was old enough to cook for the whole family?

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That Sulky Feeling of Underachievement.

I have reached the bottom line a few times in my life. I have dealt with feelings of loneliness despite being in the midst of loved ones. Consequently, I have also had recurrent emotions of worthlessness., the sulky feelings where nothing seems to make sense despite traceable achievements.

I have got to deal with a lot of not-too-happy feelings. Many times, I feel am not where I really want to be on the ladder of success looking at my age. No one has ever told me that age and success are twins, but, somehow I find myself scrutinizing my very essence of existence.

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