“And no, it wasn’t shame I now felt, or guilt, but something rarer in my life and stronger than both: remorse. A feeling which is more complicated, curdled, and primeval. Whose chief characteristic is that nothing can be done about it: too much time has passed, too much damage has been done, for amends to be made.” – Julian Barnes
2023.04.23 : I Am Mr. Twig....
I find myself once again in a dark hotel room, bottle of whiskey in hand, contemplating the events of last night. Faces and scenes flash through my mind like a grainy old movie, the memories murky and indistinct. But one face stands out, clear as day, etched into my mind like a razor blade.
Guilt presses down on me like a lead weight, stealing the breath from my lungs. It's a feeling I know well, one that takes me back to my childhood and the endless guilt trips laid on by my mother.
But in my line of work, guilt is a luxury I can't afford. A conscience is a liability, a weakness that can get you killed. So I push it down, bury it deep, and hope it stays there.
Today, though, it's clawing its way to the surface. I can't ignore it any longer. I open my laptop and ready myself. I take a deep breath and begin to write.
Oscar Wilde said that confession is the first step to purification, and maybe he's right. Maybe by sharing my secrets with the world, I can ease this burden and find some peace.
So consider this the confession of Mr. Twig. I'll change names and details to protect myself and others, but I'll share what I can. Maybe it will help someone out there understand what it's like to live this life. Maybe it will help me understand it better myself.
Welcome to my world, my confessions.
Before we get into the nitty-gritty of my confessions, I feel like I should properly introduce myself. As I mentioned earlier, I go by the name Mr. Twig - it's definitely not my real name.
The truth is, "Mr. Twig" was a nickname given to me by a group of bullies back in my elementary school days. You know the type - the popular jocks who ruled the schoolyard. At good Ol' Dwight D. Eisenhower our ringleader of this group was a guy we'll call Rusty. He was towering for a sixth grader - damn near 6 Feet tall - while I was a scrawny, 4-and-a-half-foot weakling.
I never did anything to provoke Rusty or his cronies, but that didn't stop him from making my life a living hell. Every day, he'd find a new way to torment me - pushing me into lockers, tripping me in the lunch line, and worst of all, mocking me in the locker room after gym class.
One day, things took a particularly ugly turn. We were all showering after gym, trying to wash off the stench of sweat and adolescent funk. Rusty and his friends started chanting the name - "TWIG, TWIG, TWIG!" - and I knew something bad was about to happen.
Sure enough, they'd each grabbed a stick a "twig" and proceeded to beat me with them. I curled up into a ball and tried to protect myself as best I could, but the blows kept coming. Every time a twig hit my skin, it left behind a pink welt, quickly turning red with blood.
After what felt like an eternity, Rusty and his pals got bored and left me lying there, battered and broken. I waited until they were gone before crawling out of the shower, getting dressed, and making my way home. I didn't even bother telling my sister what had happened - we never spoke much anyway.
That day changed me. I knew I couldn't keep living my life as a victim, always cowering in fear of bullies like Rusty. That's when I decided to take on the name "Mr. Twig" - not as a mark of shame, but as a symbol of strength. From that day forward, I was determined to never let anyone make me feel small or weak again.
2023.04.24 : Where Do I Start ...
We have made quality our habit. It’s not something that we just strive for – we live by this principle every day.
While most of the things about the creative process will be forgotten, the excellence of our products and services will be remembered.
2023.04.27 : Excuse the Interruption ...
My apologies for the absence of yesterday's post. I was compelled to relocate due to some unwanted visitors. As someone in my line of work, I tend to make more enemies than friends, and these adversaries often hold grudges for a long time. Our paths frequently cross by chance, and they are quick to seek retribution.
What I can tell you now is that I find myself in the beautiful country of Italy, savoring some exquisite wine and pasta. Let us continue where we left off.
After my run in with Rusty and his cronies in the gym things changed. I refused to be meek and hide any more. This of course only angered my tormentors even more. I would still get a beating from day to day but this time I fought back, kicking, punching and doing anything I could to inflict as much pain as possible.
“Destiny may have a plan for us, but it’s our actions that shape our future.”
This statement rings true for me, especially when I think back to the actions I took during my freshman year of high school. They shaped my destiny into something I never imagined.
On a cold and damp October morning, I walked to school, lost in the music of The Cult blaring in my headphones. Oblivious to the world around me. Little did I know, I was about to be undertake a series of actions that would reshape my destiny.
Out of nowhere, I heard a loud crack, and a sharp pain shot down my spine. It felt like an ice pick was being driven into my back. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the cold concrete, spinning into darkness.
As I struggled to regain my bearings, I saw Rusty standing over me with a smirk on his face, while Billy and Scott laughed in the background. But this time, something inside me snapped. Instead of taking the abuse like I usually did, I found a new strength within me and fought back with a ferocity I didn't know I possessed.
Each punch and kick were driven by a newfound energy, as if an evil force had possessed me and fueled my thirst for vengeance. Rusty was caught off guard and soon found himself teetering on the edge of a drop-off. In my blind rage, I didn't see the danger and continued to attack him until he fell.
As I watched Rusty's lifeless body lying broken below, I felt an unexpected peace within me. But the sound of sirens quickly brought me back to reality. Billy and Scott had retreated and called the cops. I knew I couldn't run or hide from what had just happened. I mean, where was I going to go, I had no money no friends and certainly nowhere that I could hide. So, I sat down and waited for the police to arrive. The shaking left me and my mind cleared, I felt the wind blow lightly on my face, what the hell?? I was happy.
