Private Writings: Chapter #55 – It’s Wrong for the Right Reasons
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by NAME OF ARTIST
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 1st April 2014
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.
private writings to dr. annie haskell
I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time
see you down the rabbit hole.
Private Writings: Chapter #55 — It’s Wrong for the Right Reasons
Tuesday 23rd September 2008
I told you last week I would tell you about my grandmother. She was so special to me. My real fairy godmother was my grandmother. She gave me a nickname I love so much. Mandy is that nickname my grandmother gave me when I was little. She would sit me in her lap and tell me how much she loved her sweet sweet granddaughter Mandy. I was her baby girl. She was the only one who loved me when I was a child. And the only person who did not abuse me in some way. Her hugs were the best in the world. Before she left me, she tried to prepare me for her death. I told her she was never going to die. Death wasn’t something I understood at that time. I never knew anyone who died. Death did not feel like it was a part of my world. She had an awful accident falling down the stairs. In the hospital, she had broken her hip and from her inability to move, she developed pneumonia.
I was too young to visit her by myself and my horrible parents did nothing to take any of us to see her. She was lost to me. I didn’t understand how to communicate with her. I was confused. Then the news came through my grandmother was going to go into a nursing facility to recover. She told me many times she would never ever go into one of them. I don’t even understand why they would tell her such a thing. My grandmother was filthy rich. She could afford to be taken home and receive plenty of care. But no, my parents and my mother’s uncle, the one who abused me, weren’t going to give my grandmother the peace of mind to do what she wanted. Later that same day, I heard my mother scream this awful sound. I ran to where she was. My awful mother was crying. Struggling to get the words out, she told me my grandmother was dead. I was so young, all I could feel was stunned.
The safest person in the world to me, the only person I loved and who loved me, she was gone. She was dead. My grandmother was dead. The last time I saw her alive, I was hugging her. I lay on her bed next to her and we snuggled as close as the pain would allow. It was the best snuggle in the world. I told my granma “I love you.” I think I kept on saying it as they were trying to pull me away from her. She didn’t want to let go either this time. The parents were always trying to pull us apart. When I would hold her in a full arm hug just before it was time to leave her home, the parents had to pry us apart then, too. I knew if I let go, I would have to go back to hell. All I wanted was my grandmother to keep me with her. Now she was dead. That is the last time I saw her, when she was dead lying in her coffin. I kissed her on the forehead. She wasn’t there. It was the first time I cried after she died. When I could see she wasn’t just someplace else, she was dead and I would never hug her again or feel her hug me, holding on tight, trying to protect me from what she never knew. I never told her about any of the abuse that was going on. I didn’t want it to spoil our relationship.
Now I have lost far too many people since my grandmother’s death. People I loved, who were too young to die but they died anyway. In all the unfairness of life, killing people when they are young is the cruelest elements of life. Death freaks me out except when I am feeling suicidal. Then I crave it. I want it. I want death to take me. It is that simple. That is why I took those pills. I miss all the women in my life who I loved and now they are dead. I feel such a deep capacity to feel intense emotional feelings. When I love, I love intensely. And I am talking about Love not sex. Sex is not meant to be something I can experience with another person. The abusers stole that from me, the ability to feel love and sexual attraction together. It doesn’t work for me. What I am able to do is love passionately but not love if it has anything to do with being sexual. Loving passionately for me is to feel my emotions of love very intensely and deeply. It is the purist kind of love I know. Love being Love. The way I feel for Scottie. She understands me. Her generosity of support is what was keeping me alive for so long.
No one can keep you alive if you don’t want to be. Tosh has been around. Her spirit is watching over me. She has visited me here. We have spent a great amount of time talking. Sorting out why she had to die so young. I’ve never gotten over losing her. But she is with me now, so I am not alone. As for the rest of everyone here, no one seems like anyone I want to relate to. But it may just be too soon. As I said, I do like my shrink. I just want to see you, Annie. I need lots of your hugs to help me make it through.
Why do people misunderstand love and hugs and saying “I love you?” That crushes me more than anything else. My heart feels like it has been crushed. The weight on my chest and the difficulty I have breathing makes me feel like I am dying. Am I ready to die? Part of me was ready to go before Jamie found me. Do I still want to die? I am not sure. When I think about it strongly enough, I would have to say yes. Yes, I still want to die. If I say that to my Doctor, I will be staying here way too long. So help me work something out, so I can get out of here. Most of all, I miss my cats, Alison, Scottie, and you. And I want to go home. I miss my home.
Help me get out of here. I know I am sounding like I am on the mania train but we can work on getting my suicidal depression back in line. You just need to snap me out of twirling around inside my brain. I’m drowning here. I surely will if I don’t get some relief from strangers. Unlike Blanche Dubois, “I do not depend upon the kindness of strangers.” Friends are just strangers in disguise. They aren’t really there to bond with you, they just want what they need but disguise it as love and caring but in reality they are stealing all your good energy for themselves and leave you starving to death. But they don’t care or give a fuck.
Well, fuck them if they can be so cruel to abandon you when you most need them. Fuck her. Who “her” is, is the $5 Billion Dollar Q & A. Name anyone and I would say they have contributed to my surrender. Living in secret. Living in fear of living. Living in fear of loving. Living in fear of Life. Living in fear of Trust stolen from me so many times in the Sacrifice. Living in fear of Death but only when Death is a threat. When it is sweet, sweet like the feelings of the deepest and darkest depression carrying me as though in a coffin through the rocking finality of death. The finality of Death is Living. But when I try to take the living out of my own self and enter Death without being called to it properly causes all sorts of people to get all weird and concerned. When truthfully no one gives a shit.
When we die, we are just gone. Only the tender few, like myself, love that deeply, when we feel death stealing us away. For the young who die, it is the last high carrying us closer to the other side. Each high brings us a shade too close to the thinning edge. I feel when we rip our body away from our soul someone has to help us through the pain after death. First figuring out where we are when we realize, “This isn’t Earth any longer. Nor is it OZ. It is filled with darkness. We can see our spirit but nothing else is visible. This is after we first leave our body. How long this period lasts, it’s impossible to measure without the existence of time. It is all for what? I thought maybe it was all for Love.
I’m exhausted. So that is all I have for now. I feel close to sane but on the edge of madness. Let me repeat my usual closing. It will make things appear to be as usual. I will see you soon. I must.
That’s all for now.
“Time for time and traveling with circuses must end. It is time to soar through the time barrier into all moments in the Universe.”
So, until I see you, I end with my favorite quote from the film Brief Sacrifice.
“Time can be folded and joined with all elements in all places as the one ultimate moment when time is all at once. In this place everything happens on a continual loop following into a continuum of time forever into infinity. In the “Silver Box,” there is contained the ability to draw time into itself and create the perfect infinite moment.”
I end this letter in “the moment between seconds.”
© Madison Taylor 2008
Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor