I want to begin this post by thanking everyone who has liked, commented on and followed my blogs. Last night, I gained 14 new followers and I am so grateful for that!
On another note, for those who have been following my works the past few years, a couple of weeks ago I began writing a prologue for a book I have been pondering on for quite some time. At this stage, I’m not completely sure where this book is going to go or what is going to happen, but I am so excited about its potential. I showed it to my mum straight after I had written it and she said it was the best piece of my writing by far, and so I’ve been itching to show it to my fans! Bear in mind this hasn’t been edited as yet, and so it probably won’t be exactly like this if/when it reaches the publication stage.
Justice, Truth and Power—Prologue:
Have you ever felt like the whole world is against you? That there is nothing you could ever do to make people accept you for who you are? Have you ever felt like all the people you ever loved or trusted was sliding away from you, like sand through your fingertips? Have you ever felt that you were just touching your wildest dreams, discovering your fate, your destiny, before it just glided out of reach again? That’s how I feel. That’s how I’ve always felt. I don’t belong with my family. I don’t belong in my school. I don’t belong in my body. I don’t belong in this world. Constantly, I feel like curling up into a little ball and dying in my sleep and going to a better place, a place that isn’t this world, a place somewhere else, a place where everything and everyone is at peace. But I can’t do that. I never will.
I’ve tried before, to kill myself, I mean, but there have always been people there to stop me, to drag me back to that mental hospital. That’s exactly what people think I am: mental. I’m stupid. Mum and Dad talk about me in front of me as if I’m not there.
‘I wish she could just do something by herself for once,’ Dad would moan.
‘Why can’t she be like her other brothers and sisters?’ Mum would add.
Nobody understands. Nobody gets what goes through my head everyday. They think I’m useless, a waste of space, a waste of precious time. But they don’t know the half of me. They don’t know what I think of them. They probably don’t care. They just pick on me because I’m different. Just because I wear glasses, or that I have braces, or that I’m in a wheelchair, doesn’t make me who I am.
It’s not my fault, none of this is my fault. It’s their faults. It’s that bloody bomb’s fault that I’ll never be able to walk again, give myself a bath again, run again! My brothers and sisters are scared of me. My so-called mates walked out on me that first day I came back to school from that hospital. They looked at me like I was a slug on their shoes: disgusting, pathetic, a disgrace.
In those six seconds, when the bomb was scheduled to explode onto me, my life changed from happy, bright, colourful, to dark, cloudy, a place no-one wants to be.
But I’m a fighter. I know that. They might not, but I do. And I’m not afraid to show it. And that’s why on September 18th, 2016, I’m going to give them exactly what they gave to me: suffering, a life nobody wants. Most of all, I’m going to show everyone else that I’m not who they think I am. I am going to prove them all wrong.
I am Briella, and this is my story of justice, truth, and power.
I’m desperate to know people’s opinions, so please comment if you want to share your thoughts!