Sep 18 2018

The one with the vigilante

Category: MiscellaneousIuliana @ 2:18

I was born in a traditional East-European family. A Romano-Chatolic one. I’ve loved God before I even understood what it was. I obeyed the rules, said the prayers. But things were not that good for my family and me. Bad stuff kept happening, parents were fighting, money was never enough and friends always seemed to be more close to each other than to me. I always felt somewhat excluded.

My parents did not help much. They always treated me and my sister as a burden, that had no say in adults decisions and we were told since I can remember that as long as food and a roof over our head is provided by them, we have to be thankful and obedient.

My syster rebelled since she was in her crib. Seriosly, she rebelled against being left to cry alone by kicking her head against the wooden fence of the crib. She still has a visible scar next to one of her eyebrows. In school she refused to do homeworks and get good grades. In highschool she smoked and wore way too much makeup. And her final act of rebellion was to run away from home at 18 years old. She lives somewhere in Milan now. I keep promising myself to visit her someday.

I did not rebell. Not visibly. I realized that rebellion can easily be crushed by people thrice times bigger than you that do not shy away from hitting kids. So I rebelled in the only place that I could. In my mind. And the mind has infinite resources for fuelling and maintainign a rebellion.  So while I was going to church, saying my prayers, getting good grades and being obedient, in my mind I was a vigillante that protected weak people, like the real me, that did not shy away from hitting or killing violent adults that did not choose redemption (a sort of Batman), that was wearing a dark costume, drove a motocycle, smoked on the windowsill at night, when her own parents were sleeping, not because she was afraid of them punishing her for smoking, but because she respected them too much and did not want them to know thier your daugher had a vice they considered despicable.

I still have the novel I wrote about her and just realized she did not have a name. She was strong and she had to be, because her life was difficult as well. Her life was even more difficult than mine, but she was able pull through. And through her, so did I.

And here I am, I’ve become so much more than her. I don’t really fancy motocyles that much anymore, but I do like leather and kicking ass, but not in the literal way, in a really cool, strong character, supportive and happy all the time kind of way. But I also did a little bit of karate and mma training for a while, so in case of need I can do that too.

I don’t know why I remembered her today, maybe because lately I’ve been feeling a little fragile. I just pushed through a cold and I am close to finishing the book. I just have a small hickup called reactive programming. :) But I’ll push through this as well. This is what I do best. Push, then hide away to charge the bateries. Don’t worry about me, all is still well with the world.

Stay safe, stay happy!

One Response to “The one with the vigilante”

  1. Chiranjeev Gupta says:

    They used to fight, and we were churned
    He used to revolt, I kept mum

    They didn’t respect each other, heaven burned
    Down to ashes, left was none

    Had to do something, I was concerned
    I left him alone, and promised to come
    Back to my brother, once I had earned
    Well enough to put them back,
    Had to lead, that was the hack

    But he didn’t come, neither did he stay
    He turned rigid now, those ashes mixed with the clay

    Still want him, my first friend ever
    I regret leaving him alone, I should have never

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