I am still young…..
On the streets, she is in her twenties, she is young for sure. Watching it all, for ever aware, it’s how she feels secure, getting over it has not been easy, she is trying to play it safe if safe is possible. The memory of that night, the lasting impression, not the one she wanted to store, it has forced itself inside her like a thief, unwelcome, but there. In her side pocket her hand, which is wrapped around, a small bottle of hot chili pepper spray, a concoction she prepared herself, by adding a few heavy peppers to the original spray, she wants it to stop a horse, she has tried it on her cat, and it worked. The cat stayed away for a month, sorry puss. The sudden noise of a car startles, she recoils from any loud noises, her inner calm, she was strong she thought, not strong enough to fight the pills they gave her; she has nightmares wondering what they did to her, the only scars, a large bruise spot, the real scar, the fear they left behind. Was that the reason she joined the pioneers; never going to trust alcohol again or anyone using the stuff. Who knows why, it happens, the therapist told her she’d get over it, words that came all to easily to mind, experts are supposed to know. Paddy, so polite in the beginning, never wanted much, was it all an act, years later, perhaps it was she doing the acting, she doesn’t enjoy the thought, he might have been happy with a go to woman, mentally he was never a challenge to her, is it all about my life, is the today me the real person, or is it a return to who she was before. Dreaming, did she dream. When did it stop, was it the bout of depression, no she sighs, that was after the first beating, at least she saw it coming.
Her head in her hands, she twists her vision towards the bottle, a sly glance. You, she reaches for it, examines the label, her vision is improving, she can read the small print, she lets out a laugh, what a sense of humour, she imagines God to be a comic somewhere, taking the piss with us, allowing us thrash the party, then like an absent father, returns out of the blue, not as a rich man, but as an extremely happy man, who wears a permanent smile, takes a can from one of the party goers while exclaiming, there will be a clean up she, or he says, to which all at the party nod approvingly, relieved to hear, that while the party is over, it’s not the end of all parties, a break in the contagion, slowdown time, as if the jet that is carrying his baggage is about to come into land, presents for the children, stiff warnings too, behave yourselves he says, play safe, a phrase everyone smiles at, especially Amy, who had her first close encounter of the intimate kind, with her boyfriend, love connection with play safe top of the priority list. Well, if you are provided with the means of spiritual well being in it’s fullest, you have to take into account the assets you are born with. Is that wishful thinking, she is young, how else can you survive, doom and gloom ignores the beauty of art, not everyone went to Amsterdam to view available women and cheap sex, not forgetting the other; there are museums as well.