i look around the room
my gaze lingering on certain things
much longer than they
should be
i struggle to decipher why
exactly she wanted
me here
what she wanted me to find
and then i see it.
the centerpiece of all
centerpieces
except this one hides a dark, dark truth
like no other
As a child, I was always good at everything.
Golden, in fact.
AS I grew older I resented it because I was always the trophy child.
My mother’s favorite centerpiece.
Her little robot.
Good at everything.
Fuck that.
I am the failure of the century.
Trust me.
On the mantle of my mother’s life, I was the centrepiece. I was in some way, her greatest accomplishment. Where she had failed, fallen short or missed the opportunity, my existence seemed to counteract all of it. In her eyes I was her piece of perfection- the one thing she could not, and did not screw up. I came to understand this at a young age and I basked in her love and coddling, while my brother stood on the sidelines, watching our mother love me more. But as I grew older, the expectations rose and it became harder for me to please her. Being her beautiful, blonde ringleted, smiling daughter simply wasn’t enough anymore. I needed to be smarter, I needed to be skinnier. Bad grades, weight gain, missing a ballet class, hitting a sharp note during the Christmas concert, even a bad hair day, were all unacceptable. The punishment of her silence when I failed was unbearable and I began to resent her and envy my brother. I longed to have his hollowed and dark features and black scraggly hair. I wished to be as forgotten and neglected, so that I could sneak off as easily as he did to the parties, to the danger, to the drugs. I craved to make mistakes, to get in trouble, to hurt and destroy. I longed to be hated by my mother. It seemed easier than living with the hate I harboured for myself everyday.
The centerpiece of the room was a big clock. Big beautiful, and striking. It was the first think that Suzy saw when she entered the house, and also the last. It sent a chill down her spine when she realised this. This clock. was HER LIFE.
i look around the room
my gaze lingering on certain things
much longer than they
should be
i struggle to decipher why
exactly she wanted
me here
what she wanted me to find
and then i see it.
the centerpiece of all
centerpieces
except this one hides a dark, dark truth
like no other
The flower centerpiece was beautiful. It was filled with roses.
There is a flower centerpiece on the dining room table. It’s not real flowers. And it’s dusty.
As a child, I was always good at everything.
Golden, in fact.
AS I grew older I resented it because I was always the trophy child.
My mother’s favorite centerpiece.
Her little robot.
Good at everything.
Fuck that.
I am the failure of the century.
Trust me.
On the mantle of my mother’s life, I was the centrepiece. I was in some way, her greatest accomplishment. Where she had failed, fallen short or missed the opportunity, my existence seemed to counteract all of it. In her eyes I was her piece of perfection- the one thing she could not, and did not screw up. I came to understand this at a young age and I basked in her love and coddling, while my brother stood on the sidelines, watching our mother love me more. But as I grew older, the expectations rose and it became harder for me to please her. Being her beautiful, blonde ringleted, smiling daughter simply wasn’t enough anymore. I needed to be smarter, I needed to be skinnier. Bad grades, weight gain, missing a ballet class, hitting a sharp note during the Christmas concert, even a bad hair day, were all unacceptable. The punishment of her silence when I failed was unbearable and I began to resent her and envy my brother. I longed to have his hollowed and dark features and black scraggly hair. I wished to be as forgotten and neglected, so that I could sneak off as easily as he did to the parties, to the danger, to the drugs. I craved to make mistakes, to get in trouble, to hurt and destroy. I longed to be hated by my mother. It seemed easier than living with the hate I harboured for myself everyday.
The centerpiece of the room was a big clock. Big beautiful, and striking. It was the first think that Suzy saw when she entered the house, and also the last. It sent a chill down her spine when she realised this. This clock. was HER LIFE.
Yeah i kinda ran out of steam
g
somthing on the center of a table.used at holidays.
Centerpiece. A beautiful arangement in the middle of a table. Many centerpieces are for hollidays or seasons. Its just plain without one.