a simple mind

Living life to the fullest with
One whom you cherish, sharing
Visions and dreams,
Everyone’s need.

Never before have I felt this way. The touch and the warmth that come with it, the feelings that runs through me and the way I am used. For so long, I have been feeling lonely. I have been made to feel unimportant and useless. To say that I have been mistreated is an utter understatement. I have been raped. Mishandled, thrown around with grease all over me. Made to feel thoroughly filthy. I honestly thought my days were miserable. Or did I even have days?

But (and that’s a big BUT), he sees me differently. From the moment he puts a hold on me, I know life is going to be beautiful after all. Somehow he has communicated the message that I am vital to his life. The tightness of his grip and his leaning body. Both make me feel very much wanted. It’s like he can count on me totally. All of a sudden, my ego has heightened, my morale boosted and my confidence…well, let’s just say it has skyrocketed! What’s more, all these lead myself into believing that I am invincible. By the power of the sky and Earth I have been created. The attributes in me are just so unmatchable. Streams of thoughts about how good I am keep flooding my mind.

Quite abruptly, my foolhardy mind is disturbed when I hear him utter, “I’ll…I’ll…buy this staff.” I feel like I have been knocked into my senses on the head. All my, what seem to be frivolous, thoughts, now, have vanished in a matter of seconds. I have been brought back to reality again. It’s like a child being awakened from his sweet dreams. I must accept the cold, hard fact. I am only a wooden stick. Staff, people call me. An item that only old folks utilise. “This piece of junk? It merely costs one cent,” another man says.

A junk. A stick. An old man wood. What more names can I get from people? Why are they calling me multiple names? I have a name. Staff is my name. But what can I do? Moments ago I felt invincible. Now, back to square one. Feeling ineffective and chagrin fills my heart. I am a nobody. Period.

“I’ll take this staff,” says the old man.

The next thing I know, I am held in his hands and slowly we walk out together. To speak the truth, I am walking with a heavy heart. Not that this is something new. I have been feeling desolate all my life anyway. The only difference is, this time I feel worse. Especially after my two-second triumphant thoughts. As for the man, he just trudges along very slowly, using me as a support.

Walking with him is rather slow. Step by step, I take him along on the walkway. He’s a strong man, I can tell you, just from his desperate hold on me. But he’s weak in his legs. The way he walks is comparable to an artist painting his picture painstakingly. Careful, precise, slow. I can hear his breathing. Not rapid but draggy. He’s also singing too. I can’t really figure out what he is singing. But it goes something like “I’ve been working on the rail road……” He sounds joyful. Or should I say there is an element of pride in his mood. Despite my pathetic state of life and state of mind (or at least that’s what I think), my spirits is somehow being lifted up, albeit it doesn’t change the opinion of myself. I still sucks. But the old man and his grip and his feelings and his moods and his song have an impact on me. A positive impact. Let’s be frank, I have hope in him.

The song goes on “Dinah blow your horn, Dinah blow your horn……” In what seems like ages, I have only moved twenty-three steps. I can hear that we are merely a stone’s throw away from the shop.

(penned in 2003)

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Published in: on Monday, December 11, 2006 at 12:00 am  Leave a Comment  
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