Monday, May 28, 2012

One day, when a mother was loathed

As I have said already, my name is Misery. My surname is Londbery. It is a name that I hate, no, loathe with burning passion. What kind of name is 'Misery'? Why would you call a child that?

I suppose my name was a projection of what my mother was felling - misery, sadness, despair, the last flames of loving passion snuffed out from her. According to Father, the mood she was in started months before. She drew away from the world, from people, from life. When she had to speak to people - mainly my father - she had a chilly personality. Eventually she threw Father out, divorced him, all of that. Then she raised me alone - I only got to see Father on the weekends.

My relationship with Mother was a... strained one. We didn't get along very well after I started seeing my mother for who she was, seeing past the facade she put on. I started asking my father why Mother was this way, when did it start, did she not like me? He answered them to the best of his abilities.

Today I don't care about the reason for mother's behavior. I have come to realize that not everything has a cause that makes sense. Things just happen, without any rhyme or reason. The thing is, we - humans, that is - are quick to blame things, investigate deeper when in reality it's futile. It's like we can't comprehend the random, the chaotic.

I don't hate Mother anymore - just feel a sadness for what could've been a happy upbringing if it weren't for things outside of my control. Besides, she died two years ago.

They say she died of hypothermia in the winter.

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