Dear universe, really? freeweite of random thoughts.

So it’s been an odd couple of days, you know, so yesterday i got half way through the day looked up and thought really universe, really! So firstly a friend did a vanishing act, poooof, entire profile gone, including the youtube songs that i love! Anyway, instinct said, nout to worry about, so left them to find their way back. Because sometimes, that is exactly what needs to happen. Popped onto facebook to answer some rather random questions from the mum, looked down at my messages and thought, wow, got myself another facebook user….it still surprises me how often people block me on facebook, it’s a little like they don’t like what I have to say, now admittedly in the past it has tended to be fellow students, (yesterdays block was not a student, but rather someone that is proving nothing by blocking…or perhaps proving everything.) Anyway, you know what bugs me? serial blockers, and the ‘bye’ i’m leaving facebook peeps, really? Ok then go, don’t make a show!..Anyhoot, what to do,what to do, what to do, you see, this isn’t the first time, i got blocked whenever i refuse to walk on the egg shells he has kindly put out for me, and within a few days he is usually back, pretending it didn’t happen…but i’m thinking, enough, i may just block them back this time, life just aint a game, i proper hate game players!…Anyway the day actually got worse (or better, mum, if you ever read this i mean better), turns out the odd random questions were for a reason, my mother is thinking of visiting at the weekend…gonna be plenty of you thinking, well that’s a good thing, and it is, but i see her once a year, May, May a month and a half ago, its not been a year, so why the visit, at first i thought oh yeah the new dog, she wants it to play in the sea, then i thought, well hold on, i aint great at geography, but you live a hundred miles away, i am pretty sure you have beaches closer too you….grrrr, so why the fuss? Why does this idea of a visit from mummy bother me? Well….perhaps another day, i gotta clean this place from top to bottom, change my entire appearance, prepare a five year plan and fill the freezer with a months worth of wholesome home cooked dinners….and even then it won’t be good enough. Still, it has me in a tissle, she’s my mum, and she wants to see me, and of course this makes me happy……seriously, dear universe of ours, why do some people hold the power to get us in a tissle? Answers on a post card, peeps!!?
xxxx
Anyway i gotta go eat some space invaders…and choccie buttons …mixed together and make the most of being home alone :-).

Mummy, what is love?

One day my precious daughter will ask

‘Mum what is love?’ and I will say,

Love is everything and love is nothing.

Love is a trust that reaches beyond our

Realm, far into another universe. Love

is a respect that runs so deep constantly

Changing, growing and evolving. Love

is loyalty when the money is gone and

The nights are cold. Love is energy.

But most of all love is your reflection,

In the eyes of your partner. Love is equal

The scales never tipping, love is complete

Without regrets. Love makes you strong

Not weak. Love is pure not tainted.

The Broken Serial Killer

‘Your Dad was right, you’re useless, a failure. No wonder your Mum ran of with the shop keeper.’
Tim clumsily paced around the small cluttered living room, knocking into the old brown coffee table, sending a pile of paper work scuttling across the carpet. His hands were shaking from three days without sleep. His muscles tired and weakened. Tim grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the floor and took a long swig. He hoped the alcohol would invade his body, comatose him, he desperately needed sleep. He prayed that enough alcohol might bring him death, peace.
‘You’re not a failure. He stole away your Mummy, your childhood. You can still make daddy proud.’
Tim turned to look toward the corner of the room, where the voice had come from. The girls soft voice reminded Tim of his Mother.
‘Pick up the gun, Tim.’ she whispered.

‘Are we doing this, or what ?’
Tim turned to where he had heard the mans voice come from. Looking directly at the armchair, his drunken dad had occupied for so many years, he desperately replied,
‘I just want to sleep, I want my Mummy.’
Tim paused in front of a broken mirror. His eyes sunken and bloodshot, skin deathly pale. It had been three days since his Fathers funeral. He tried to sleep, but the memories crept into his dreams, forcing him awake, sweat covering his body, his heart beating rapidly as his screams echoed around the empty house. The scars that map out across his pale broken body, ache, constantly. Tim ran his fingers through his unwashed hair, rubbing the tip of his thumb along the groove of a ten year old scar. A constant reminder of why he must never ask questions about his Mother. For seventeen years his Father had controlled his every movement. Had beaten him to within an inch of his life. Had constantly reminded him, that it was his fault ’mummy’ had left.

No one noticed the anxious man walking along Main-street. His hands dug deep into his pockets, as he rubbed the cold metal barrel. The bright florescent lights inside the shop stung Tim’s eyes, blinking he accustomed himself to the new and threatening surroundings. Slowly walking along the aisle toward the cashier at the far end, he watched the old man reading behind the counter, the graveyard shift was always the most peaceful. Without hesitation, Tim pulled out the 22 Calibre gun, and pointed it towards the shop keeper.
‘You stole my Mummy’
The shopkeeper looked from Tim to the gun. His shaking hands rose in a peaceful gesture. Tim pressed hard against the trigger, hoping for relief from the voices. The shopkeeper had no time to react as the bullet hurtled towards him, entering his heart.
Tim ran from the shop, out into the night. Struggling to hold himself together, he shouted into the darkness
‘Please, I did it. Please let me sleep.’
It was quite the voices had gone… for now.

I wrote this is an excercise for a tutorial, please feel free to let me know what you think. Thanks for reading.