I was a God,
the center around which this hollow Universe orbits,
they were insect gnats, swarming fruitlessly against my relentless will.
IN LoViNg MEMORY OF
Sisiel Norton
An Unloved Husband, Father and Son.
†
I glance at people outside from the windowsill and I see drones.They go about their mundane lives, doing exactly as they're told, believing in whatever crap they're fed, even when all the signs point to the opposite. They are content with their robotic existence, and dare not question it. It's like they've given up on life, on thinking for themselves. But at least they're happy, right? Well, not me. I'm a drone too, a concept of mindless automation.
I was never supposed to be a father. It happened all so quickly, she fell pregnant and then we were suddenly trapped in an unbreakable, eternal bond with each other. That was enough to break a man like me.
Yet, here I am, a father.
I exist, that's a fact and my wife hates me and my children wish that I was dead, that whole rotten bunch does and I have this apprehension because their sidelong glances and muffled whispers are the only languages we share these days.
They think I don't see the clandestine touches, the hidden phone conversations, the inside jokes excluding me.
"Your love is suspicious, for I do not deserve it"
The members of this family are strangers performing in a play I neither wrote nor auditioned for, yet I remain as the omniscient narrator here, the silent observer in every room decoding their adulterous subtext.
Yes, I know they hate me and still, I work, I provide, I persist in their fictional truth - because to live fully is no longer mine to experience."The cracked plaster on the ceiling had taken the vague form of a leering, demonic face."
-Love, Me
Sisiel Norton
YOU ARE READING
The Swollen Uvula
General Fiction"I'm a ghost haunting the halls of my own home." - Father, A False God.