Ellen Brooking
Stories (2/0)
The Mock Life – Chapter Two
I'm home. I haven't even been out of the house that long and I feel like I've vanquished a great demon. I find my bed, I find my nook, and my head rests gently on the pillow and I feel comfortable. I sense her. Before she even says my name, before her stench wafts in, before she breaks in like the shittest cat robber ever. There she is, the overwhelming figure of matronliness (or lacking of) lurking at the end of my bed for the second time today. Two times more than I would have preferred. She tells me that Janet her therapist has told her that maybe that I need to hear she loves me more. The Thug began seeing a psych a couple of years ago when she self-diagnosed that she was having a midlife crisis, obviously only me, my father and Janet knew this. I'm aware I sound cold, but she's just really fucking annoying. Like if you don't know someone like her you just won't understand. So then she sits. She sits on the end of the bed, she asks me how my day way, feigns some general interest and then she blindsides me. We are not an open family, we don't have family meetings or discuss our feelings the closest we've ever got is when my great aunt Marie died and my dad gave me a quick hug and a pat on the back. We're not emotionless, we are just not like this. She asks me if I'm a virgin. I feel my jaw literally drop a little and my irises widen three centimetres. This is not what we talk about. This is not who we are. Even the Thug can recognise my disbelief and slight nausea.
By Ellen Brooking6 years ago in Humans
The Mock Life
Characteristically you deal with situations the way that has come before, the circular relationship between a child’s actions and the actions of the parents. If your father is an asshole, this leads to the assumption that you will eventually become an asshole yourself. I’m sure Freud suggested that we long for our parents in our romantic lives, but I believe we do not long to love them but long to become them, because familiarity breeds content and we as human truly only strive to be content. Maybe the world has made us this way, our lives dictated and regimented by the world we live in. The cavemen and the explorers strived for more; it never ended well. Explores killed civilizations with a simple sneeze and the cavemen were often killed or eaten alive. Why challenge your destiny, destiny will always claim its reward. Maybe because why strive for more, because we know subconsciously that the ones who strive for more become outsiders, the free spirit in a prison of contentment. You inevitably become the characters that guide you, you become not quite replicas but copies of what came before, you will never break the circle, because inevitably we all live in a circle of destiny and life. Second to the debilitating fate that your parents unknowingly cast upon you, you’re a creature of your circumstances, you live in a dead end town, then that dead end is all your fated for. Your father is an investment banker, then you inevitably will become an investment banker, this is obviously if you’ve chosen not to become a "boy of the world"; a term coined to represent the rich boy (but not exclusively male) that chooses to cast his good fortune on the children of Africa, believing that his "generosity" will help them in there eternal struggle. Until he ultimately gets bored and goes back to table service in Mayfair. I myself fall somewhere between the two, not quite terminally unemployed but nowhere above a solid office job that will make me redundant at the tender age of 43, where I fall into crippling debt but refuse to sell the Mercedes that I bought second hand five years before. We’re all destined for a fate predetermined by the great all mighty lord or by the bank, characteristically limited to a life we know that will be unrewarding but will keep a roof above our heads and food in out stomachs.
By Ellen Brooking6 years ago in Humans