Just
like a trippy shadow play, warped visions rushed to my mind, of a
past that never really existed, and of times ahead, that may, or may
never actually happen. Coloured lies designed by a coloured mind, to
deliberately confuse an already altered truth. What were fond
recognitions and expectations, became weapons cutting at the heart of
my present and future with an overexaggerated sense of loss.
Desperately
I tried, without success, to see the author of this emotional
creation, hidden behind a wall of sadness, disappointment, and anger.
The fear of what I might find beyond, keeping me in a constant state
of impotence, until in one single stroke, I saw clearly through to
the marionette of illness I had become, a character in a puppet play,
reading from a script I had no control over, led by the strings of a
disease, I had allowed to become heavy chains holding me back.
I
cannot server the ties that bind me to illness, but I must recognise,
and believe, that I am the master not the slave, l must grab onto and
firmly hold those strings in both hands, if I am to have any control
over how and where they may pull me.
I
will no longer allow my mind to use the frustration I feel about the
limitations of the props, or where the plot may be heading, to stop
me from taking my part in the drama, as fully as I am able.
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