English Creative Writing – Damaged Goods

The following in italics is my English Creative Writing piece I wrote last month. It hasn’t been assessed yet but I quite like it so I’m going to put it on here. It’s based upon my experiences with my Mum and I tired to write it in her point of view.

Damaged Goods 

Evolution – the gradual development of one of God’s creations. Revolution – the overthrow of power. Many refer to this process as the former; however the experience can be more like the later. What made you like this in such a short space of time? No one told me it would be this hard. I can remember your ‘former self’ as if it was only yesterday. 

I’d carry you around so that the whole world could see you. To me, you were more important than anything else. I’d do anything for you. Some say I spoilt you. Others say I was obsessive. I was just doing what was required of me. I was your guardian angel, the one you looked up to (in a literal scene as well). You were mine and no one could take you away from me. All day, every day; you were mine. 

I knew this period of joy, laughter and freedom would come to an end soon but not at the rate in which it did. I had to choose your next step in life; the next place you’d spend all day, every day for 70% of the week. Pride turned to nerves which turned to anxiety which turned to sadness. The ticks and tocks of the clock seemed as slow as a broken down train parked in the sidings. But when the hour came you were mine again. The first glimpse of your face, the first glimpse of your smile was enough to fuel my train of happiness. I wanted to play with you and be with you all night but we both knew that tomorrow would come and we needed to be ready. After your first year in the hands of other people I became more comfortable. I loved seeing you wander off into the open space full of people you enjoyed being with. In fact, that made me as happy was we were together before this time had come.

Looking back, even that seems far away now. Did a devil come to you in the night? You are not the same. You are not mine. Why does anger build up inside you like a shaken up fizzy drink? Why does the cap on that fizzy drink have to be so loose? Suddenly your once smooth posterior had gained a rather slouched figure. It was as if you were carrying the whole world every day. Pressure began to close in on you in the race of life. Looking back, we took for granted our hefty advantage in that contest of life. Every summer, Easter and holiday would give us a chance to regain our lead but come the new term the pressure came storming back. People would tell me it’s for the best; it’s inevitable; it’s happening to everyone. But did I believe them? No. “Surely it couldn’t be so bad for you and me”, I thought. We were partners in crime, hand in hand, headed for glory. Then again every new term brought on new challenges – new hurdles to the race course.

To me you were perfection and anyone who thought otherwise was frowned upon. I couldn’t think of anything wrong with you; others could. Visions of me and my younger days of pain, misery and sadness would come flooding back when someone targeted you. I found myself welling up like a volcano about to erupt. I couldn’t bare anyone being horrible to you. You were perfection. You were my pride and joy.

Little did I know a mere 5 years later I would be a volcano of a very different kind; targeting a group of very different people. The tides had turned, the storms had stirred – I was in very different waters now. Every now and then I get glimpses of clearer seas where my pride and affection comes storming back. But they turn out to be a mirage in the distance. The wind teases with me – giving glimpses of hope and then throwing me back the other way. I now struggle to see a clear image of your former self through the rain of regret and storms of sorrow. This image keeps appearing in my head of which I try to wave away but it clings on with an unbearable grip. I start to see your image in the storm clouds. You’re the one pushing my boat of guardianship away from the shore. Why are you targeting me? Where has this anger come from? What have I done to deserve this? What happened to the clear, tranquil waters of our early years together? I close my eyes and think back to those early years. What made that small white cloud on a summer’s day turn into a huge surging storm in such little time? Evolution – the gradual development of one of God’s creations. Revolution – the overthrow of power. Many refer to this process as the former; however the experience can be more like the later. What made you like this in such a short space of time? No one told me it would be this hard.

But no one told me it would be easy. You have to take the rough with the smooth my mother would tell me. See past the clouds of destruction and you will find the sun you have been waiting for. I have learnt to do that. You are still perfection. You are still my pride and joy. You are still more important than anyone else in this world to me. You’re still mine – my baby boy. Nothing can change that.

Love, Mum.

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