Mindfart

I remember the dogs barking, the way the gate would ever so slightly screech like an attempt to thwart my attempts to escape and even the faintest of footsteps would shatter the chaos outside. The dirt, the filth, rubbish so hastily handled you'd think they were running away from a crime. Perhaps the fire crackers startled them I thought but as always I peeped through the steel mesh and metal bars it's business as usual the old folks glued to their chairs playing mahjong and watching their precious television.

Navigating this glorified slum was never a hard thing I suppose. After a while you begin to familiarise yourself with the scent depending on which sewer line you were following. Stench, smell, tv show; albeit probably unorthodox to catalogue such things but who knows when I'd have to move next. Another shoddy apartment and endless skyscrapers, what's the point of memorising street names. If there was one thing I could ever count on it was being by myself, the playground and some wholesome fun. Surely however delusional a child might've been it was always pleasant to think that the fire crackers were set off to celebrate my birthday.

I suppose that's when it all started... This overhwhelming, pathetic and annoying sensation of hope. I compare it much to clinging on for dear life whilst trying to drown yourself and sadly it's doubly as miserable as it sounds. Luckily kids are always bipolar and the simple motion of a swing spoke boundless wisdom. Mattered not what people say by that time I was already a master of deflection. Bleak as they were I'd at least enjoy the comfort of my amazing cake made of dirt, come to think of it it was probably something else too given the odour seeing one can never tell in the city of Taipei.

Needless to say I was met by the notorious metal ruler upon arriving home. Just as a snail would recoil from touch I never took those lashings too gracefully. Canes left bruises that were delicate to touch for days, back scratchers were similar but they leave odd marks but those I could swallow. One could almost praise my father's creativity while under the influence, can't fathom what he'd possible do with a pillow but I'm sure he'd make it work. There's humour to be found here; bruises are definitely far more delicate and painful in the long run than a cut from a metal ruler so in retrospect performing ninja moves to dodge those swings were probably better served when the cain was in question.

It was already etched in my brain by that time beatings were normal so long as I stick to the rule I'd be safe and honestly the pain does dull after a while. Sooner than you realise those tears weren't from hurt feelings but just a pure reaction to the intensity of the pain. What is equally as amazing is the fact fear disappears and a warmer greeting to the cane is proportionate to the exposure. It's still really just guesswork but a child did what he did to speed things up and the bonus being you sleep far better in the half paralysed state.

There's a point to be made here but I'm not sure which one. Writing has never been one of my strengths. For the longest time it's easy to assume I'd harbour eternal resentment to my father but as it turns out even after escaping all of it and experiencing joys beyond what I had ever imagined I feel what ever part of me back then died. This process almost made me sympathise with the old man seeing deep down inside he still had the ability to express his emotions. There's validity, reasoning and logic behind wanting death as an alternative but I can't shake this void of nothingness and it horrifying to me that I can just simply not care anymore. There are no bottomless pits of despair and anguish, no rays of hope and faith staking through the heavenly clouds... just a blank canvas.

Is this what acceptance is meant to feel like? It'd be far too fruitless to stop at the crossroads having seemingly just doing a full circle and feel like nothing's accomplished. Suppose I can't complain I was just expecting it to feel more liberating than a "oh" moment. Maybe those old folks back then knew it all! Enjoying the firecrackers, TV and their mahjong admist the gloom. Even so, that for me is still far harder to accept over the bruises and cuts I've endured.