Father, Father

I pirouette in the dark
I see the stars through a mirror
Tired mechanical heart
Beats ’til the song disappears
+Lindsey Stirling & Lzzy Hale; “Shatter Me”

The music box chimes on. A distant melody, one so far from me.

The china tea set with painted blue flowers. The white jewellery box decorated with fairies, soft pink velvet inlaid, a round mirror, and the little fairy ballerina who danced faithfully. The unicorns, plush, imaginary, sculpted. You could never understand their names.

Chrysalis Chaos. Aura Canvas.

“Daughter, can’t you think of normal names for your animals?!”

In one of your many fits of rage, all of these treasures were taken from me.

Rage. That consuming anger that spoke of frustration. So I gave them up. I surrendered them to more deserving children, then again, I had to procure these artifacts on my own. It felt like one by one, my dreams were fading from me.

No tea party for me to host. No dancing in the private darkness of my room. No composing the plays in my once fertile mind.

How does a little girl with an IQ of 142 drastically lose her mental capacities?

If only the clockwork could speak
I wouldn’t be so alone
+Lindsey Stirling & Lzzy Hale; “Shatter Me”

“A borderline genius in the family, and now that potential’s wasted. On what? Imagination, and here she is trapped in her own mind.”

You called me yesterday, right after I returned from a performance at Kitchener-Waterloo Little Theatre.

For every shred of happiness I manage to catch hold of, must I always pay a price? Why must joy, peace, love, all what makes the world beautiful, come with a cost?

No kind words from you. Like your last brush of communication, you saw only your self-centred world. Your point of view, your perspective. You saw a rebellious daughter, an ignorant, stupid fool to whom you felt necessary to issue ultimatums and orders to.

Twenty-nine years old, a graduate student, and still you see the little girl who needed to be locked into a cage to nurture her potential.

You wouldn’t teach me the value of my tears.

“Stop crying! You dare cry, I’ll give you a reason to cry!”

I understand punishment may be necessary for disciplinary purposes. Yet this? Bringing out the belt, the hand, or the paint stirring stick for miniature rivulets threatening to spill over from the eyes of a frightened child?

She is the Night. Nisha. A name that shall not change, even if you pressure her to conform to your ways…for the lunar blood is stronger. This female child, the kiri’nedra of the Lord of Time, the moonlight is not her own, nor does it belong to the rulers of the Sun.

You never did appreciate the treasures that awaited the seekers in darkness….

If I break the glass then I’ll have to fly
There’s no one to catch me if I take a dive
I’m scared of changing
The days stay the same
The world is spinning but only in gray
+Lindsey Stirling & Lzzy Hale; “Shatter Me”