The Irish's Sanity

Chapter Thrity Three

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I looked at my clay smeared hands as I tried to be as gentle as possible, the table rotation needing me to steady my hands. The feel of the rotating clay in my hands addictive- it has cost me a lot of time because I would end up not moulding the clay instead enjoying the feeling as I day dreamed about anything and everything free.

Pottery, a hobby I had craved to fully educate myself in in my younger years but I have always had a bit of an issue getting the hang of it, I often rushed the results and lacked the patience for the beautiful process of molding nothing into something. My problem was that I could already see what it could be and it excited me riding me of the shred of patience I claimed to at least have.

I recently got reacquainted with the art, I searched for ways to keep my hands busy instead of trembling. I started writing but whatsoever I wrote was too sad to leave for more than five minutes on paper, I didn't want to spread or better yet express sadness or fear to the world, I wanted to spread happiness, make the world a little better with the small part I played by doing what I loved.

"I hate you- I hate you so much my heart is only consumed by you-" I chuckled before glancing up at him, his expression the same as I had imagined it. Stoic and naturally intimidating. I took in a deep breath, the words didn't disappear from my lips. I have said them many times but the difference this time was the peace I had, I wasn't raging with anger and hatred, the difference was in the shred of happiness that was unending inside of me. I didn't want to say these things again but I had to get it out, I could not help it. It was healthy to do so because despite the shred of light the emotions were real and raw.

"Sadly that also means you consume me even in ways I'm not proud of." The vase I was making proved to be more time demanding and harder than I thought it would be. I huffed having to start all over again, the oversized overalls barely covering the white sports bra I had on. I felt hot. It wasn't even hot today. I felt, the heat was from the mess that was my life.

"I can't even be close to you in real life let alone look at you, I can't hold your gaze. Yet when I am finally able to look at you I feel like a poet, torn into two. One wants to dance in your blood the other wishes you were sane because it's consumed by you entirely.- I even sound like a wanna be poet." I chuckled. Looking at the sculpture of him I had tried to make made me laugh here and there because I was really horrible at this yet I was pleased. It levelled out my strong overwhelming emotions. I couldn't keep on crying to a man who didn't even understand what crying was. Lachlan genuinely didn't understand why I cried. I remember him asking me what tears were going to change and I replied truthfully saying nothing and then he proceeded to ask then why do I do it. It was pointless to explain it to him even though a part of me understood the stance on tears. He wasn't human.

"This is what I have resorted to!" I snorted looking around before looking to the heavens, he didn't allow me therapy now I was speaking to a sculpture of him as if it was a therapist. I looked at my the timer I had set, I have approximately 8 minutes to get this session over and done with.

I wished he was constant maybe I wouldn't be so torn, I wish he would just remain evil if he chose evil or good if he chose it. I was so afraid of him my entire body was very much conscious to his every single step afraid I would piss him off. I shouldn't be living like this, I was used to these emotions yet again they came as a sad story that evoked sombre emotions.

My eyes moved to Lachlan 2.0 sighing, it was easier said than done. I told myself I would stop asking him questions, and crying. It wouldn't help me. Although I couldn't help the bleeding of my heart because I really didn't understand. It was like no matter how much I see the person he is I just couldn't understand why he was so evil, because I didn't think such evil was possible.