What it feels like

About 9 years ago I was given a copy of a book called "what it feels like". 

It was one of the most fascinating books I'd read and as imitation is the highest form of flattery I wrote a few pieces of my own over the years. Mostly as a bit of fun and sometime as an exercise to get through bouts of writers block. Nothing as exciting as losing fingers to frost bite (like Ranulph Fiennes) but then again I do like keeping my appendages.

Anyway here is one I wrote if anyone is interested
What it feels like to have a broken heart.
You get a stabbing pain in your chest that feels like someone is very slowly driving a blade through your ribs. Whatever was once beautiful in your mind now leads to tears and life seems like the shadow of a dream, too elusive to really remember.
You wonder if evey moment was a a twisted lie. Looking for all the hidden signs that were never there. A still hollowness takes the place of the world and all colour and sound seems some how muted. Every emotion is so intense you feel as if you are losing grip on reality, as day to day tasks require the utmost attention to barely hold on. 
At points your brain plays tricks on you allowing to hope or negotiate a resolution that will restore all you've lost. The meaning in everything is faded like an old watercolour landscape. If you eat at all food becomes a daunting task, a painful necessity that does nothing to sustain you. The hollowness never abates.
All people seem like merchants of judgement and sympathy. Every word is dissected and replayed on a torturous loop until you scream inside, blaming all on yourself. Part of you wants to feel angry but another feels too guilty to contemplate this. Nothing makes any sense. 
Then one day you wake up. 
The pain in your chest has given way to a silent barren wasteland.  
Emotionally vacant. 
Everything is replaced by a numbness that you know isn't right but easier to bear.


Sister for sale?

Found a another devil to purge.

Today I heard a child about 7 or 8 ask when his new baby brother was going back to the shop.

Kids, far more cunning than you want to believe.
When I was a child I'd often thought about trading my sister for a troop of Camels. 
Before you judge me please note my sister is four years older than me and younger siblings should never be held to account for thinking of ways to depose their elders. Also camels would be far nicer than she and worth about £1, 000 each, I calculated that 10 would of been a fair trade. 

I mentioned this to my late father once, he initially agreed and then scolded me but I knew his heart wasn't it. In reality I'm sure he really did see the sense in my scheme. As you've guessed my sister remained part of our household and I settled on stealing her shoes from time to time as compensation. I think this is a most equitable remedy.