Ruptured

When I felt I was under judgmental power, it worried me. Those causes brought me running down the hill straight home sit by my desk hold my pen write, while listening to the sound of the clock chiming, with a hope, when I leave my chair my life would change. I was once a woman of style shinning, yet they judged me as a tedious unreasonable unpleasant unqualified for their society. I felt once unique universal they judged me, as an undesirable person with no feelings. I felt once as a tenacious and tender woman, I was judged as superficial sullen suitable only to suffer. I once felt talented with tact but they saw me as a talkative stubborn woman uncreative. I was once welcomed well known well bred, they judged me as vulnerable with no vitality unlucky worthless, a zero. I felt once I was a warm warm hearted woman, today I am washed out weeping, unwilling to fight back, as my insight withered. I am wounded weak because of them. At the beginning I was always right today I am always wrong. Therese Bacha 7 July 2013