Without prior knowledge my sweet grandma gave me a personalised pen for Christmas. it reads: Matthew: A man full of self confidence, his promises are always kept.
This seemed like an innocent and caring gesture, that is until my dear brother was sitting on my bed examining the pen. In a moment of evil genius, including thunder in the background (no exaggeration). he stands and demands me to repeat after him:
“say, I promise i am not full of confidence”
the words leave my mouth with little consideration for the dire consequences. The paradox is formed. I realise, all to late, that the very fabric of my being cannot sustain stability under such a contradictory environment lacking any form of logic.
A sharp pain floods from the depths of my soul, up my spine into my frontal lobes. A deeper spasm follows. It’s like there’s an electrical storm in my head. Delirium. The sound of my brothers voice is distorted and distant and the pressure on my eyes forces the world to seep into blackness. I need release. I scream and fall face first into the bed. I roll in pain and scream some more until my body is depleted of air. I gasp for oxygen and thrust another yelp, yearning for release. After some time the world begins its return. The spinning slows and the sounds of iTunes come nearer. I don’t understand how, but I have survived. I lie still, painting from intense the moment of fear.
Those pens should come with a warning.