Most of her sentences begin with, “I used to.” She used to be / to go / to enjoy / to do / to love x y and z. Now she dwells, angry and bitter, writing furious lists of all of the things that The Thief has stolen from her. She used to enjoy painting. She used to dance in crowds. She used to wear dresses. She used to be smart. She used to do sports. She used to like the sunshine. She used to have real friends. She used to be pretty. She used to travel. She used to enjoy sex. She used to speak several languages. She used to throw parties. She used to make people laugh. She used to be skinny. She used to be popular. She used to be able to do anything. She used to be a daughter, a sister, a niece, a granddaughter. She used to be brilliant. She used to trust people. She cannot get over Her [old] [true] [real] Self; she misses Her and grieves for Her. The person she is now is not a person, rather a half-human living a half-life. But The Thief cannot be caught nor punished. Already locked up in the prison of her mind, The Thief paces day and night, making her brain ache while waiting for an opportunity to strike, destroying her dreams before they can be realised, converting her hopes into fears, stealing her life one memory, one chance, one possibility at a time. The punisher cannot be punished. You can’t hang the hangman. The Thief will only leave when there’s nothing left to steal. The Thief will leave soon.
So perfectly expressed!! I believe we all have points in our lives like this when we realize we are not who we were, and we’re stunned at the realization of how much we have left behind along the way. Our past selves seem so much more interesting than our present selves.
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That’s exactly what I was trying to explore, I’m glad that someone “gets it.” Thanks so much for reading and commenting, Karen! 🙂 xx
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I have seen such a Thief in action,
Seen it steal,
Day by day,
Month by month,
Year by year,
Everything my father had ever been
Had ever loved
Had ever known
Bit by bit
Memory by memory
Leaving only a shell
Until even breath was taken
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Losing yourself is hard but witnessing someone you love losing themselves is even harder – it’s heartbreaking. *hugs* ❤
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Indeed – hugs back
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
HLR at Hijacked Amygdala – Lost Self
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Powerful writing! You wonder if the thief and the one complaining about the theft are the same. Sometimes its you in the way of yourself.
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