My Identity Delusion
Rules are Meant to be Broken?
There was only one rule: don't open the door.
The problem with that was... I'm a rebel. If you tell me not to do something, I'll do it, just because you told me not to. Put a barrier up in front of me; watch me take a battering ram to it. I'm fiercely independent.
Still... I was the one who made that rule to protect myself. Why would I defy a decree I made for my own good?
⚡_______________ ⚡
Before that encounter at Walmart, I hadn't seen my father in 27 years!
I went home and got crazy drunk, reeling like I'd been struck by ___lightning.
⚡_______________ ⚡
Years ago, I had crafted this false identity. With the help of a hypnotist and a dab of psilocybin mushrooms, I had systematically built a fortification of intentional forgetfulness. That Redesigned Me didn't include...
🌈🌈... the teenage me, watching all-male orgy porn on my father's computer. I fell asleep unexpectedly after I had an incredible orgasm. Dad caught me, beat me, and would have kicked me out of the house if not for mom.
🌈🌈.... being taken to dad's (all white) church to be sat in the front pew, within pointblank range of a sermon about how homosexuals were destined for hell...
🌈🌈.... apologizing over & over for being gay, as if it was a conscious decision! I was ashamed of my own existence, although not as ashamed of myself as my sire was.
... so many humiliations hidden behind that obsidian door.
Unexpectedly running into my father had unlocked countless suppressed insecurities.
⚡_______________ ⚡
When they found me in the closet, I could barely remember my own name. But I did know that I'm a worthless weakling— a lying coward in desperate need of a hypnotist.
298 words, by
___________________________Bolt ⚡
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Lightning Bolt ⚡ and writers in Horror and other communities.
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Once upon a time, a young girl lived near the edge of the woods with her family raising rabbits. The forest was dark and evil, her father told her, and she was forbidden from wandering there. “Only wicked things live in the woods,” he would say. “Witches, monsters, and freaks make their home there. Beware!” But the only things she would see there were squirrels, birds, and the occasional hawk which she’d have to keep an eye on, for it liked rabbits. For her, the forest was peaceful and full of surprises, the perfect place to daydream, which she would do often.
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Comments (10)
Wonderful story, Bolt!
Are you happy with who you are? Your 'self' is the only thing that really matters in life. What an honest and great story.
Thanks for sharing, Lightning Bolt. Remember that you are not alone! More Haikus for you!
This is such an incredible piece, Lightning, and a fantastic entry to the challenge. Thank you for sharing your story with us, and for your bravery in writing the raw. It totally broke my heart. Sending a hug your way!
Raw honesty and trauma of life takes courage to overcome. You are here, which means hope conquers all. head o the sky, to the sky.
Wow, that was deep. The door is really a symbol of unlocking and accepting who you are. It did not matter if you were accepted or not. It's being your true self is what you want to be. Glad you enjoy your orgasm.
Where to start?! Thank you. A dramatic tale of psychological torture. A brave concept for the ‘Spooky Microfiction.’ A unique conceptualisation of the required first line: ‘There was only one rule: don't open the door.’ The terror of that threshold. An encounter in Walmart evokes unbearable memories and trauma. * ... so many humiliations hidden behind that obsidian door... Unexpectedly running into my father had unlocked countless suppressed insecurities. ⚡_______________ ⚡ When they found me in the closet, I couldn't even remember my own name. All I knew was that I was a worthless weakling living a lie.’ * I can’t begin to appreciate your experiences - I am not you but I do suffer complex tauma. However you have provided a window so profoundly moving. It take’s great courage. Truth telling is powerful stuff. You are no longer worthless weakling living a lie. Be proud. For many this story will be an inspiration - for them to learn from your experience. Respect! With kindness Pauline 🌸
Gosh this made me so emotional 🥺🥺🥺
heartbreaking not being able to live authentically
The mix of trauma, identity, and memory is intense, and your storytelling makes it all feel so instinctive. Thank you for sharing something so personal and deep