From Darling To Delusional

From Darling To Delusional

Many different names for it, but only one given look.

Crazy, Insane, Twisted, Mental, Psychotic, Deranged, Whacked, and Disturbed.

One step above Moronic, one step below Convicted Mental Patient.

Our minds are a powerful thing and sometimes they are more powerful than we realize. Sometimes it’s understood and achieved from a young age, how to manipulate and twist the thoughts of others to do what one wants; good and evil.

For some, it comes at a later time in life and the ego overturns and becomes a power trip from hell for all those who suffer from it. When a person disagrees or gets angry with another, insults and name-calling are some of the first things to roll off the tongue in order to obtain power or dominance.

But when the other fights back in self-defense, the name-calling is turned more into saying the other person is crazy, as opposed to a legit hurtful name. Naturally, when we are called any psychopathic name, another is brought in that’s worse than the last each time one is said; which has been known to and still has every opportunity, if said to the wrong person, will land them in the Insane Asylum.

Molly was the youngest of 4 kids. Painfully, she was also the only girl and her dad was gone a lot because of work, so she was always picked on and treated as a maid by her brothers. Their mother left their father a year prior, choosing a life of wealth and no responsibilities. The times when Molly got her chance to sneak off, she ran fast; through the tall grass, a small cornfield and large bunch of trees that all clustered together in the back of their 19-acre property– she made a safe haven to let her guard down. Her brothers were always calling each other horrible and rude names, but she always seemed to get the names too; ‘mental’, ‘wacko’, ‘loony’, ‘unstable’– and they just got worse as her brothers and she got older.

When Molly became a teenager, she was well into hiding everything she did from her family in fear of her hobbies making her brothers believe she is more of a mental patient than she already believed she was.

In her hideout at the edge of the property, she enjoyed her friends coming to spend time; always having tea parties, making jokes, and being able to open up about her brothers. Molly’s friends’ stay was always too short for her liking, knowing the torture and emotional scarring from her brothers was waiting just across the field…

Until one afternoon, while having her friends over for a picnic lunch in their hideout, Molly heard her brothers playing some sort of violent and physical game with each other in the field—and their voices started to get closer. Molly and her friends sat quietly around the small table she had set up for lunch, in hopes that her brothers wouldn’t find them accidentally. Too late. The oldest brother saw her and called out for the other 2, not taking his eyes off his sister.

When all 3 of her brothers had come close, they looked around at the safe haven she had created in the bushes. Before Molly had any moment to speak, the youngest brother pinned her to the ground and suspended a wad of spit over her face, while the other 2 stepped in closer and the oldest one asked, “So when did you start talking to your dolls, Molly? There’s nobody here, but you.”