You will never understand how it feels to live your life with no meaning or control
Some of the songs we have been listening to recently reminded us of it and inspired a mental note to look up that Mazzy Star track. We had already gone from noticing and no longer disregarding the memories when it came on without us looking for it when we stuck on a made for you Spotify list. There wasn't any 'I think..' about it, it just was. She stuck with the name because it was the easiest for both of us to remember and because it really pisses the ranks of slavers when their efforts to completely alienated you from yourself becomes a basis of empowerment. Then when Pulp's Common People come on after the memories on lying on the bedroom floor in Skene together with getting seriously, consensually and intensely physical for the first probably last time with her or anyone.
As younger kids we had collapsed on a prickly forest floor together when we could run no longer and were sure we had lost them but had to stay low and still we were so overjoyed at finding not just someone alive but another girl I couldn't stop myself from looking too deeply and seeing where see was headed. It was impossible for her not to feel relief at knowing that she would definitely be out of it all one day and that day was only about a decade away. I couldn't cope with it though and did the only thing I could and that was to give her my mind in its entirety as it was back then before most of the genocide, before the breeding to try and find some kind of justice revenge anything that might make it a little tiny bit better. I know we would be nothing but absence and hate knowing we couldn't stop it from happening and even worse after for a long time so we couldn't look at what she did.
I wasn't there when it happened but I'm sure the image of her distressed in that room with blood coming from her mouth that has been around a lot recently is real. They had me elsewhere doing everything they could to make sure I knew and then took me back after when there was nothing that could be done. In the months and years after convincing us that things could always been worse was well executed.
There was one of those program routines to convince us to do something that had already happened in response. Stuff like that was about making the handler ring look way more powerful and knowledgeable than they were to the buyers who were not to know that us slaves did everything. The skills the local and national handlers have is in torture and most of that is given to them from elsewhere. Everything and everyone neatly compartmentalised. Cogs in a machine designed to destroy anything vaguely humanitarian, unaware and unfeeling automated objects making up a massive machine that will always be so much less that what any one of those individual cogs was or could of been.
We learned and are still learning what it can do when it succeeds in forcing you to abandon yourself.
We overheard the calls and were vaguely aware we were being sent to Fife, 'to stay with Paterson Gran and Grandad' and we knew there wasn't much we needed to prepared that we wouldn't just automatically cope with in the moment. The trip to the Woodside shops with Margo's mother was the trickest though we were so exhausted from the constant psychological torture. As we knew he would some teenage boy stopped us and said some shit about knowing who we were, what had happened and saying he wanted to help us which was almost made us laugh but we were physically incapable of a genuine smile or even a fake laugh. We weren't hearing or taking in much of what people said to us but he did get some response out of us that was maybe not what he was expecting as he looked at bit startled and some of the boys with him were disagreeing but it was very simple to us,
''I am Louise.''
If I am Louise then Louise can not be dead.
As younger kids we had collapsed on a prickly forest floor together when we could run no longer and were sure we had lost them but had to stay low and still we were so overjoyed at finding not just someone alive but another girl I couldn't stop myself from looking too deeply and seeing where see was headed. It was impossible for her not to feel relief at knowing that she would definitely be out of it all one day and that day was only about a decade away. I couldn't cope with it though and did the only thing I could and that was to give her my mind in its entirety as it was back then before most of the genocide, before the breeding to try and find some kind of justice revenge anything that might make it a little tiny bit better. I know we would be nothing but absence and hate knowing we couldn't stop it from happening and even worse after for a long time so we couldn't look at what she did.
I wasn't there when it happened but I'm sure the image of her distressed in that room with blood coming from her mouth that has been around a lot recently is real. They had me elsewhere doing everything they could to make sure I knew and then took me back after when there was nothing that could be done. In the months and years after convincing us that things could always been worse was well executed.
There was one of those program routines to convince us to do something that had already happened in response. Stuff like that was about making the handler ring look way more powerful and knowledgeable than they were to the buyers who were not to know that us slaves did everything. The skills the local and national handlers have is in torture and most of that is given to them from elsewhere. Everything and everyone neatly compartmentalised. Cogs in a machine designed to destroy anything vaguely humanitarian, unaware and unfeeling automated objects making up a massive machine that will always be so much less that what any one of those individual cogs was or could of been.
We learned and are still learning what it can do when it succeeds in forcing you to abandon yourself.
We overheard the calls and were vaguely aware we were being sent to Fife, 'to stay with Paterson Gran and Grandad' and we knew there wasn't much we needed to prepared that we wouldn't just automatically cope with in the moment. The trip to the Woodside shops with Margo's mother was the trickest though we were so exhausted from the constant psychological torture. As we knew he would some teenage boy stopped us and said some shit about knowing who we were, what had happened and saying he wanted to help us which was almost made us laugh but we were physically incapable of a genuine smile or even a fake laugh. We weren't hearing or taking in much of what people said to us but he did get some response out of us that was maybe not what he was expecting as he looked at bit startled and some of the boys with him were disagreeing but it was very simple to us,
''I am Louise.''
If I am Louise then Louise can not be dead.
