Monthly Archives: September 2018


I once knew a boy who was born into a happy family. He was happy for the first few years of his life, then people changed, and things changed for him. The little boy was confused, and he tried his best to comprehend it all. Oh yes, he tried.

That boy tried to make sense of all the scolding he got, how it was his fault things happened or went wrong. He looked to his parents for answers, but they took turns accepting, and then rejecting him. That made him love them all the more, for he thought he wasn’t loving them enough to begin with. There wasn’t much in his younger years, only a lot of tears, a corner of the house, and the persistent shouting. And still his strong love for them.

He grew up shakily, not knowing what was what, and how to react to this and that. He started to ignore what happened at home – from not talking, to taking beatings stiff as a rock. All that carried into school, where he started to fail his subjects effortlessly. He didn’t care for the F’s because he got far worse at home. He had become hollow and he had forgotten how to love. The teachers tried to fix things, but everything was far too broken.

Then one day they came to his house, looking for his parents. He didn’t know what to do, so they sat him down and spoke to him. His parents were upstairs, listening, and soon they had to make their presence noticed. Then they were spoken to. The boy sat quietly, knowing there was no use in saying anything. They told lies and weaved stories to cover up; but eventually the tales showed inconsistencies, and the people saw through the smoke. More visits, paperwork, counselors, people telling him ‘everything will be alright’.

The boy was taken away, but his parents kept watch of him. They knew exactly where he was and whom he was living with. But without the boy at home, there was a gaping hole in their lives. The hole must have done something, because the parents started to think. Somehow the boy knew all this, but he kept silent.

It was presumed that they ‘changed’, though all anyone could be certain of was that they still had their eyes trained on the boy. He could not escape them, and he resented them for it.

But the boy was strong and he learned to face his troubled past. He fought his demons, he broke out of his shell, and he grew up. He did not want to remain a weakling. The parents watched. He knew they were watching.

The boy then became a young father, with a son who bore a striking resemblance to him. He loved his son and wife a lot. In his son he saw his past life, and to this boy he gave all the affection and love he had once wanted so badly. And still the parents kept watching. The father watched the new father, waiting to see what would happen.

Ten years flew past, and the boy was living a fulfilling life with his loving wife and dearest son. He was a good father; his son was a loved child. But some nights when he watched his son sleep, The Boy wondered why his father had stopped loving him so suddenly. He would then go outside and weep silently. The Father would watch his son cry, The Mother by his side. Streaked cheeks and quivering lips. She always cried and The Boy always saw her tears through his own, but he didn’t care.

Fifteen years past, and The Mother was no more. Overcome by sickness. The boy had nothing to say to that.

Twenty years, and The Father more alone than ever. He still watches his thirty year old son. He has lost the ability to be cruel. He only feels a black emptiness, and he wants his little boy back. But he is still so afraid of reaching out.

I once knew a boy, and he thought he knew me. I can clearly remember now, how much I used to love him… But will he love me back again?




I once knew a boy who was born into a happy family. But for some sad reason, that slowly crumbled and the boy got hurt. In the end he was taken away, to live with someone else. That did something to his parents; it was a hard blow that made them realize their stupidity… but they were too empty and too guilty to right their wrongs.

I once knew a boy, and he thought he knew me. I can clearly remember now, how much I used to love him… But will he love me back again?



The television is on but he isn’t really watching. Slumped on his sofa, his eyes a glassy blank and his right hand still barely holding on to the soda can that had long been empty. The illusion that he was in control; he knew there was nothing in the can but did not do anything about it. Instead he chose to focus on the argument that since he was still holding on to the can, there might just be something left inside. No one would be any the wiser. It was pathetic. He heard something at the door. Oh great. She was home. For a brief moment he thought that if he kept his mind blank and just forgot that he was there, he’d disappear.

‘Shouldn’t you be writing something?’

‘Hmm?’ He pretended he wasn’t listening, like he was paying attention to the TV. He tried to hide the fact that he was being useless; it was useless.

‘Don’t pretend. I know you were listening,’

‘Yeah yeah I’m taking a break, can’t you see? You know what, I think sometimes you think you’re so smart but you’re actually just really, really stupid and you wanna take it out on me,’

She pursed her lips. She looked like she was about to curse but instead:

‘You’re frustrated with yourself, DON’T take it out on me,’ and with that she went to her room.

He let out a long sigh.

‘There’s nothing good on TV anymore…’


An hour later he was slouched in front of the computer, ready to tap away. Just ready, not tapping away. I need inspiration, I need something to get me started. Pssht, yeah right.




Some things are decided for us.

I don’t want to travel unless she’s with me.

At the same time leaving them behind makes my heart heavy.

Therefore i am happy to stay put.

I have everything i need right here.