The Alchemist

[Written about a sociopath ex-mentor.]

He found my vulnerability – the things i learned about spirituality as a child, those tender guarded spaces in my mind. He knew the language to speak – the code to gain access into those private spaces.

That which is undefined is malleable, or weaker you could say.  And those spaces, they were a foundation beneath everything strong which had been built… Find the weak beam, and the entire structure is at risk.

Trust, what does it mean? It means I believed he’d only have my best interest in mind. But what happened when he was overtaken by a sense of entitlement, a sick need to dominate, a resentful mood of ‘everyone gets theirs – when will i get mine?’…. Self-serving manipulation, in the guise of “help”, happened.

But I am the alchemist. I take the poison, and I chemically transform it into nourishment.  I grew beyond the gigantic thumb pressed down on me… What was meant to cripple me, meant to keep me small, only fed my growth. Anger became motivation. Hurt became drive. Weakness became strength. I smiled, I laughed, and at last, his fist struck my face and broke the invisible bond. What was meant to be a desperate last attempt to control me, instead unleashed me.

I embraced my freedom and ran about wildly reclaiming my will. Now I must recover, so that I myself am not destroyed by my own all-devouring wrath that flows like molten lava just beneath my grin.

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