Hello, my name is Elisabeth Solana-Simone, and this is the story of how I died.
Life has always been fascinating to me, even when I was younger... I can still remember the feeling of being awfully alienated when it came to the concept of religion, friendships and family. It's not as if I wanted to feel that way, but I truly could not help it. My mother was agnostic whereas my father was a devoted muslim man who always tried to push me in the direction of his faith. At the tender age of six my mother and father got a divorce; unbeknownst to me. I never really noticed the conflict between the both of them, I always thought they were together. Every night I would question my mother as to where my father was, she would constantly give me the same response:
"He is at work, he will return home after." she would smile, a glimmer of dismay sparkling from within her. As a young child, of course I believed my mother, she was my mother after all. Despite this, I would always question my loyalty to her due to the fact that in the morning, he was never there, I would ponder and ponder upon the same question "where is he?". Skipping forwards into my primary school life; I felt no rage, no hostility, no sadness, as a matter of fact I felt relief knowing about the divorce...I knew this was strange but it was uncontrollable.
Growing up I never really had many close friendships this is because of my lack of trust in humans themselves, they always seem to abandon me so I began not caring about them. Friendless and alone at the age of eleven, no-one bothered speaking to me, even acknowledging my existence. Some days this made me awfully happy, over-joyed even but on most days I sat on a playground bench which was layered in the most inexpensive blue paint, leading to crackling and peeling paint extending from every corner of the surface, there I would be staring into the dark, desolate abyss of my own mind. I would often imagine myself playing with a friend, meanwhile in reality I was just perched upon the bench, focusing my gaze upon my fellow classmates as they laughed along, chasing one another through the almost endless meadow (being my schools sporting field).
On the bright side, it was my last year of primary school, months left until the beginning of secondary, there was certainly nothing to lose. I sighed, admiring the out-dated analogue clock that sat perched above the door frame, my teacher began to take registration before everybody darted their eyes towards the heavy, painted door. Three Knocks.
"Please, come in." my teacher smiled, welcoming the deputy-head teacher inside of the classroom, standing alongside a slender, blonde girl who was roughly my age. I furrowed my eyebrows, deciphering what this situation could infer. 'A new student!', I proclaimed within my head. The first lesson of the day was P.E, I was never good at P.E and I never will be. I watched as my classmates began to attack each other violently with basketballs, attempting to become victor in this vicious torment-filled game. I felt a poke on my shoulder, it was the new girl.
"H-how do you play this game?" she smiled, questioningly.
"Well, basically all you really need to do is jump around like a monkey and avoid getting attacked by the ball." I chuckled, charismatically. Making me burst into laughter, the girl began genuinely jumping around as I told her to do so. At this moment I knew we were going to be great friends.
"My name is Elisabeth, and yours is?" I asked, politely, reaching to shake her hand.
"Megan." She smiled.
Megan and I were close friends for the rest of the school year, until we inevitably parted ways after the transfer to secondary school. It always happens, this is always the end, nothing ever ends in happy ever after...not even for an eleven year old.
Right now, at this very moment, here I am sitting in my bedroom, typing this for you, the date is October 15th, 2018. Things are different know, very different, I now understand something, something I never did before...people are merely just puppets clinging onto every demand their puppeteer sets, unfortunately, unlike the rest of the world; I do not have a puppeteer.
Because of this, I believe I should tell you a story...the story...the story of;
The Liar, The Narcissist and The Sociopath.
YOU ARE READING
The Liar, The Narcissist and The Sociopath.
Storie brevi**TRIGGER WARNING** The beautiful thing about life is that you can easily become entranced by your own insecurities and views... Suffocated by the liar. Intoxicated by the narcissist. Drowning by her inner most demons.
