Somebody Else's Soul

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

A story about a turbulent relationship between a father and daughter.

I don’t have a split personality, I don’t have schizophrenia and I’m certainly not a professional impersonator.

So, why do I feel like I am two people?

I am the person I have been conditioned to believe I am; the person who allows other people to feel more comfortable about them-selves without any recognition and, in turn, that negative force has somehow become so powerful it has toppled ‘me’, silenced my soul and ultimately destroyed the intrinsic life force which arrived with me on this planet the day I was born.

This cruel twist of fate means I am living somebody else’s life, the sensitive sponge that carries around others failures and their refusal to take responsibility: a real life game of pin the tail on the donkey. How did I become the donkey? I don’t want to be the donkey. Make it stop.

I was a happy, smiling baby keen to learn about the world and ready to be guided towards the path of true enlightenment, accompanied on a safe journey through life, protected by love and strengthened by the transference of knowledge. Instead, I was left to fend for myself and build defences against the negative forces which should have been deflected by those who were supposed to nurture and build my self-esteem.

Nowhere to fall but fall, of course I did, with nothing to cushion my fall. Nobody to pick me up, build me up or instil the confidence and faith I needed to protect me from being so sensitive to life’s pain.

My anger was re-branded in more attractive packaging; labelled a bad egg and tossed away to rot from here until eternity. I am the eye of the storm. Whatever you felt, that same pain multiplied by one hundred was hammered into my sponge-like heart like a nail in a mahogany coffin.

A quiet, sensitive and unassuming soul who loved adventure and desperately wanted to be loved. The pretty little girl in a knitted white cardigan, alone in the dark on the steps of St Pauls, paralysed by fear and terrified by life’s real life monsters.


Alone on an island, created by others, taken by pirate ship and being circled by sharks; desperate to get off but, nobody came.

Abandoned in the middle of the desert with headless chickens and other strange, unknown creatures; being pushed and pulled with no safe landing to anchor my soul and keep my heart soft.

Where am I?

Does anybody care?

Who is she?

Is she the happy little baby? Is she the terrified little girl or the grown up girl who simply can’t handle any more pain; who will swipe her claws and puncture the skin of anybody who attempts to hammer another nail?

Where was your patience? Where was your love, your protection and my guiding light?

Who should take responsibility for my rotten, cold soul now? The ultimate insult, of course, it is me - left to continue the lifelong fight, in the middle of the jungle, between my soul and the pre-conditioned lonely sole that made your life easier.

You broke my heart and you silenced my soul and I probably won’t ever meet my soul again.

You let the monsters get me, Dad.

Submitted: December 14, 2013

© Copyright 2022 northernlight. All rights reserved.

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