Friday, December 9, 2016
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Calm that Will Not Settle
The sea in my breast overflowing
With words, halting at my lips.
My heart is heavy with the weight
Of our love; it grows uneasy
with every goodbye, the seed
of distrust stretches its vile limbs
within my belly. My heart grows cold
with love for you, even as
your smile warms my heart.
~ This was a piece I wrote, inspired by Japanese poetry. I hope you love it as much as I do.
Cinderella, re-told
Hello there!
This is something I previously posted to my now deleted blog (The Writer's Quill). I wrote it during my Creative Writing sessions at university. Do read. There are notes at the bottom for discussive purposes.
Golden long, luscious curls. Perfectly arched brows. Large twinkling blue eyes. A small but sharp nose. Red, full lips. Pearly skin. I had none of those. My first husband married me for my dowry, and my second for the role I could play as mother to his daughter. Even with his dying breath, he cared for nothing but his daughter. Was I not beautiful?Why couldn’t you love me?
My nights were tormented with anguish. Every time I’d kiss my daughters good night and bid them sweet dreams, my own dreams were anything but an endless, private hell. I was alone, again. Not that the presence of a husband had eased that loneliness, but the sound of rhythmic breathing next to me helped calm my nocturnal frenzy. Even the birth of my two daughters did not give me the happiness of companionship and familiarity that I so yearned. In their round, white faces, I saw my own loneliness, and the curse that followed my face – of being too insignificant to be loved. Perhaps my late husband chose me out of countless others because I was no rival for his affections.
Night after night, I’d teach my children to be wonderful proper ladies. I wanted to believe that there was a person who would love them for their skills and their nature despite their lack of looks. That there was a God who would deliver me from my torment, but how could that be when he puts me face-to-face with my tormentor every day?
My tormentor is an innocent child. Innocent? She bats her long lashes at the baker down the street and she comes home with pastry crumbs all over her frock. And when I’d request she bathe and change her clothes, she’d laugh and run up the stairs to the attic. How she torments me with that face! Her smile cynical as she silently mocks me, knowing that her father loved her more! I try and try to give her my love, to let her know the mother she never knew nor had but she would never accept me, nor listen to me. But God saw my sin and punished me with guilt – I hated her fervently, vehemently, with the same passion I prayed for forgiveness and redemption.
I pray to my God to release me from my hate, my pain, my jealousy. My God is a cruel God who laughs at me. Perhaps even God loves those who are beautiful. But I was born this way! My voice had quickly dwindled to a dull noise, and tears had long become dry as dust. As the years passed by quickly, my fears and dread doubled just as swiftly. The years had not been kind to my daughters for they were no more beautiful than before, although they were wonderful daughters and though I was proud of them, somewhere in my heart I was secretly ashamed of them.
My other child, on the other hand, was favoured upon by God and men alike. Time had softened her features, her hair no longer honey blonde but gold. She was an enchanting creature and I sometimes fell under her spell but when I’d awaken from my stupor, I’d curse my stupidity because as beautiful as she was, she was not my angel - to deliver me from temptation, to love and protect me. Her clothes were stained with soot from the chimney which I forbade her to go but the frequent stains were proof of her insolence. I know my neighbors think me evil – they think her dirty clothes are because of harsh chores that I impose on her - but I am only human, and slave to my ugliness. But my daughters had suffered from gossip too. They were the “evil stepsisters” who abused their innocent, beautiful, kind and loving sister. How I cursed my fate! For those whose form is so repulsive such as mine, could never be loved nor where they fit for love. There was none who’d speak for me.
Notes
I've always loved Cinderella, the fairy tale. In this version, as you've guessed, I'm writing from the stepmother's point of view. In this version, the stepmother suffers from a trauma about being ugly and unloved. She feels unloved because she is lacking beauty. Her first marriage was because of money and in her second, it was because of convenience. When she comes face-to-face with "Cinderella" who is beautiful and loved by everyone, she sees her nemesis in her. Her envy, jealousy, hate, anguish, regret are all embodied in her stepdaughter and it makes her feel worse that she has to confront all these ugly emotions.
Her trauma is worsened by the fact that her own daughters are not beautiful, and she sees the same fate in her children's futures. She becomes fearful of their futures and when she looks at her stepdaughter she can't help but despise her for she foresees a different future for Cinderella. Her lack of beauty as she perceives it is a constant source of low self-esteem, and it affects her social skills as seen in her relationship with her Cinderella. Because of her lack of social skills, her neighbour think she's cruel and mistreating her stepdaughter when in truth, she isn't. She doesn't even speak up for herself and defend. She is very disempowered, not only be her gender, her self-identity, but also by her looks.
You will notice that I hardly made reference to Cinderella and her stepsisters and this is to force the reader to identify with the stepmother. Also, I don't write too much because I want to provide some sense of ambiguity about their character so that the reader may question the stereotypes of these characters and ponder on them. For example, I'm sure that right now, my readers must be thinking, "Hmm, what is Cinderella really like?"
This is something I previously posted to my now deleted blog (The Writer's Quill). I wrote it during my Creative Writing sessions at university. Do read. There are notes at the bottom for discussive purposes.
Golden long, luscious curls. Perfectly arched brows. Large twinkling blue eyes. A small but sharp nose. Red, full lips. Pearly skin. I had none of those. My first husband married me for my dowry, and my second for the role I could play as mother to his daughter. Even with his dying breath, he cared for nothing but his daughter. Was I not beautiful?Why couldn’t you love me?
My nights were tormented with anguish. Every time I’d kiss my daughters good night and bid them sweet dreams, my own dreams were anything but an endless, private hell. I was alone, again. Not that the presence of a husband had eased that loneliness, but the sound of rhythmic breathing next to me helped calm my nocturnal frenzy. Even the birth of my two daughters did not give me the happiness of companionship and familiarity that I so yearned. In their round, white faces, I saw my own loneliness, and the curse that followed my face – of being too insignificant to be loved. Perhaps my late husband chose me out of countless others because I was no rival for his affections.
Night after night, I’d teach my children to be wonderful proper ladies. I wanted to believe that there was a person who would love them for their skills and their nature despite their lack of looks. That there was a God who would deliver me from my torment, but how could that be when he puts me face-to-face with my tormentor every day?
My tormentor is an innocent child. Innocent? She bats her long lashes at the baker down the street and she comes home with pastry crumbs all over her frock. And when I’d request she bathe and change her clothes, she’d laugh and run up the stairs to the attic. How she torments me with that face! Her smile cynical as she silently mocks me, knowing that her father loved her more! I try and try to give her my love, to let her know the mother she never knew nor had but she would never accept me, nor listen to me. But God saw my sin and punished me with guilt – I hated her fervently, vehemently, with the same passion I prayed for forgiveness and redemption.
I pray to my God to release me from my hate, my pain, my jealousy. My God is a cruel God who laughs at me. Perhaps even God loves those who are beautiful. But I was born this way! My voice had quickly dwindled to a dull noise, and tears had long become dry as dust. As the years passed by quickly, my fears and dread doubled just as swiftly. The years had not been kind to my daughters for they were no more beautiful than before, although they were wonderful daughters and though I was proud of them, somewhere in my heart I was secretly ashamed of them.
My other child, on the other hand, was favoured upon by God and men alike. Time had softened her features, her hair no longer honey blonde but gold. She was an enchanting creature and I sometimes fell under her spell but when I’d awaken from my stupor, I’d curse my stupidity because as beautiful as she was, she was not my angel - to deliver me from temptation, to love and protect me. Her clothes were stained with soot from the chimney which I forbade her to go but the frequent stains were proof of her insolence. I know my neighbors think me evil – they think her dirty clothes are because of harsh chores that I impose on her - but I am only human, and slave to my ugliness. But my daughters had suffered from gossip too. They were the “evil stepsisters” who abused their innocent, beautiful, kind and loving sister. How I cursed my fate! For those whose form is so repulsive such as mine, could never be loved nor where they fit for love. There was none who’d speak for me.
Notes
I've always loved Cinderella, the fairy tale. In this version, as you've guessed, I'm writing from the stepmother's point of view. In this version, the stepmother suffers from a trauma about being ugly and unloved. She feels unloved because she is lacking beauty. Her first marriage was because of money and in her second, it was because of convenience. When she comes face-to-face with "Cinderella" who is beautiful and loved by everyone, she sees her nemesis in her. Her envy, jealousy, hate, anguish, regret are all embodied in her stepdaughter and it makes her feel worse that she has to confront all these ugly emotions.
Her trauma is worsened by the fact that her own daughters are not beautiful, and she sees the same fate in her children's futures. She becomes fearful of their futures and when she looks at her stepdaughter she can't help but despise her for she foresees a different future for Cinderella. Her lack of beauty as she perceives it is a constant source of low self-esteem, and it affects her social skills as seen in her relationship with her Cinderella. Because of her lack of social skills, her neighbour think she's cruel and mistreating her stepdaughter when in truth, she isn't. She doesn't even speak up for herself and defend. She is very disempowered, not only be her gender, her self-identity, but also by her looks.
You will notice that I hardly made reference to Cinderella and her stepsisters and this is to force the reader to identify with the stepmother. Also, I don't write too much because I want to provide some sense of ambiguity about their character so that the reader may question the stereotypes of these characters and ponder on them. For example, I'm sure that right now, my readers must be thinking, "Hmm, what is Cinderella really like?"
Moving Forward
I've always been labelled a problem child. In all honesty, it is fair. I'm nothing like everyone else in my family. From a young age, I've always seen more and understood more than most of my peers. I'm a pisces, so like most of my kin, we're very sensitive, rebellious and headstrong and at the same time very kind and forgiving. Perhaps, it's because of this that I often feel like a doormat.
Anyways, coming from a family with huge problems, there are many times where I feel inadequate, awkward, insignificant and a burden. But I just want to say, sometimes the truth is difficult to see. Every person is unique and are made differently. Some are less emotional and others more, some are talented at one thing and some are talented at several things. Some want money, others want peace. We have different value systems even if on the surface it seems the same.
The thing is, don't judge others. Try to be more accepting and kind instead of dismissive. I've made that mistake for a long time, and as a result I've developed stereotypes and prejudices that I've been steadily deconstructing in the last few years. People react differently to different stimuli. Some people, like my mother, are not good at handling any kind of intense emotion and she reacts by automatically rejecting anyone or anything that arouses strong feelings in her. It took me 20 years to figure out her cold demeanour.
At the same time, always remember that there are times when your feelings will weigh you down but know that this feeling will pass. Most importantly, never believe it. When you feel useless, don't for a moment believe it. A bad moment does not negate all the good moments. Life is precious and it is yours. Don't give it up because it is your right to live. Life can be hard and unbearable sometimes, but persevere because life is an opportunity. Whenever you feel like it, take that opportunity to turn your life around. You won't see it when your emotions blind you, so pause to breathe and when you open your eyes again, you will see it - a chance to change things.
My life has drastically changed this year. I decided to change my life. I made choices I never thought I'd make and I'm all the better for it. Make as many second chances as you need. Never give up. For the second time this year, I cut my hair and started a blog after taking a stand for myself. It is true that part of me regrets it, but if I don't make a stand, nobody is going to take me seriously.
So let's promise each other - no matter what, KEEP MOVING FORWARD. Don't look back, don't hesitate. Just move forward.
Anyways, coming from a family with huge problems, there are many times where I feel inadequate, awkward, insignificant and a burden. But I just want to say, sometimes the truth is difficult to see. Every person is unique and are made differently. Some are less emotional and others more, some are talented at one thing and some are talented at several things. Some want money, others want peace. We have different value systems even if on the surface it seems the same.
The thing is, don't judge others. Try to be more accepting and kind instead of dismissive. I've made that mistake for a long time, and as a result I've developed stereotypes and prejudices that I've been steadily deconstructing in the last few years. People react differently to different stimuli. Some people, like my mother, are not good at handling any kind of intense emotion and she reacts by automatically rejecting anyone or anything that arouses strong feelings in her. It took me 20 years to figure out her cold demeanour.
At the same time, always remember that there are times when your feelings will weigh you down but know that this feeling will pass. Most importantly, never believe it. When you feel useless, don't for a moment believe it. A bad moment does not negate all the good moments. Life is precious and it is yours. Don't give it up because it is your right to live. Life can be hard and unbearable sometimes, but persevere because life is an opportunity. Whenever you feel like it, take that opportunity to turn your life around. You won't see it when your emotions blind you, so pause to breathe and when you open your eyes again, you will see it - a chance to change things.
My life has drastically changed this year. I decided to change my life. I made choices I never thought I'd make and I'm all the better for it. Make as many second chances as you need. Never give up. For the second time this year, I cut my hair and started a blog after taking a stand for myself. It is true that part of me regrets it, but if I don't make a stand, nobody is going to take me seriously.
So let's promise each other - no matter what, KEEP MOVING FORWARD. Don't look back, don't hesitate. Just move forward.
"The best lack conviction while the worst are full of passionate intensity."
- 'Second Coming', William B. Yeats.
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