the child makes the man

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
the story of psedonym

Submitted: December 16, 2016

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Submitted: December 16, 2016

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The Child Makes the Man

This story unlike many other stories will vanish into the deep chasm of archaism but for posterity sake it must be told. There is no such thing as equality only serendipity a truth that I have come to find self-evident. My name is pseudonym an odd name yes but one that I have come to closely identify with. Pseudonym encompasses all the untruths that have forged my identity until this point, maybe even beyond this point. I am not special like others before me, I am not talented and most importantly I am not better only fortunate. As a child I was given a proper name like most children. I was told I was special like most children, I was told I was talented like most children, and I was told I am better like most children. As a child I was given the name narcissism. Do not misunderstand the story’s message, it is not one of humility. I find the sanctimony in humility as revolting as the leprosy that is unfettered pride.

As a Child I reveled in happiness at least that’s what I’m told. How unfortunate not to remember those years. As children we know the love of a god or rather a goddess. Time is meaningless and everyone is subject to our selfishness. As a child I knew the love of a goddess but love is a fleeting thing subject to the dictates of serendipity. Providence had smiled upon me until it didn’t then I was caught in the chilled dead gaze of realities scorn, a blaze is all I remember. I have always been fascinated by fire a word used to describe immense passion and prodigious destruction. As a child I played allot with fire until the day fire decided to takes its turn in our tenuous game. Fire took my goddess, fire took my love, fire took everything leaving me with a reminder, a reminder I see every morning in the mirror. You don’t play with fire because fire does not play fair. A lesson that has been with me since that day, in practice fire taught me not to take extraneous risks. With my goddess gone I was alone others attempted to undertake her position but came up lacking. As a child I was distraught, where was my reminder that I was better and talented. Where was the love that reinforced my narcissism? It was gone fire took it away from me. It was time for the child to grow up and narcissism to give way to a new name, anomie.


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