Loosing Yourself; Anger

A Work Of Fiction.

8th of July, 2018.


It is a truth universally acknowledge, that teenagers have high expectations about their eighteenth birthday. Lydia came from a humble family where every meal was to be thanked for, and the next prayed for. Her happiest times where those Ten minutes before getting up at 6:30 in the morning which she spent in delusions of grandeur. She always wondered how her life would be if she was born into a wealthy family, she’d be as snotty and spoilt as rich kids are often prejudiced. Lydia’s eighteenth birthday was something she always expected to be BIG! “Big” is a relative term to Lydia, to Lydia a “big” Eighteenth birthday meant buying a beautiful dress and shoe. Every year, every birthday, Mrs Wilson gets her a dress, getting a shoe would be what makes Lydia’s birthday “big”. Lydia’s a dreamer but a reasonable one, mostly. It was the 8th of July, a Sunday morning and the day before Lydia’s birthday. As usual she was taking her extra ten minutes in bed, her heart was full of sadness and anguish.

“tomorrow’s my birthday… Mom already told me she won’t be able to get me a dress much less shoes…of all birthdays it had to be my eighteenth!”

She says sobbing.

“my ten minutes is up, I’ve gotta get ready for church and besides Mom doesn’t deserve to see me crying. I know she’ll get me heaven and earth if only she could afford it”

Mrs Wilson was the best mom she could ever ask for but she never understood the little things, like what it means to be a teenager or how important it was to have a social life. The Wilson’s were a Christian family and it being Sunday everyone was to be ready by 8:00am. Lydia was in the kitchen preparing breakfast while her younger ones were doing their morning chores, Mrs Wilson walked into the kitchen.

“Girls leave all that, go on now and have your baths, I’d finish up.

Said Mrs Wilson whilst collecting the stirring spoon from Lydia. The girls immediately abandoned their works, Lydia was about to leave when Mrs Wilson stopped her to have a word.

“Lydia, are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet

“Ma, I’m fine, just tired I guess”

“You kids of this generation, always tired! Even in the morning?”

Mrs Wilson took Lydia’s silence and disconnected reply as an affirmation of her earlier worries.

“Is it because of your upcoming birthday? You know… “

“Ma! Forget it, I know you would if you could, don’t stress it. I’ll have other birthday’s, maybe next year “

Mrs Wilson was disheartened, she despised herself for not being able to fulfil her daughters dream. On the other hand Lydia was excellent at hiding her emotions, it’s a skill you develop when you try to protect your loved ones. Mrs Wilson hid her sadness from her daughters, at least she tried. The most important thing to the Wilson’s was family. Lydia went straight to the bathroom to brush her teeth, her head buried down deep in thoughts. She reached for her brush, applied the paste, “up and down, up and down” she brushed deep in thoughts full of emotions, crying out of immense anger, consciously applying pressure to the bottom of the brush, subconsciously trying to break it, the pressure was increasing, suddenly the brush snapped creating a sharp edge, and in the moment the force of the snap with Lydia’s hand still up and close to her face in the brushing position, the brush cut across her face across her forehead to her cheeks. Lydia was panicking, she rinsed her face with water, she prayyyyed that it wouldn’t bleed…but she wasn’t answered. The line across her face was red and bloody within a second, she shouted.


Crying profusely, she waited as Mrs Wilson appeared.

“oh Lydia, how did this happen? “

“Mom! Pls first aid, I’m in pain”

“oh! yes”

Mr Wilson and the girls came over with the first aid kit. Mrs Wilson cleaned the face of wound, it wasn’t bleeding again but it had a bright red stain, Lydia still crying began to explain without actually being honest about everything.

“I was just brushing…then it just snapped…it was the force that was imparted that…did this”

Lydia said motioning to her face.

“do you think it’ll scar?”

“no it won’t my Dear, let’s get going, we shouldn’t miss church. We would visit the hospital just to be sure”

Said Mr Wilson. Everyone nodded and went to continue their preparations. The family was now seated at the dining table eating breakfast, Lydia was still crying, primarily because she did that to her own face.

After church Lydia was taken to the hospital where she was told it was just a facial wound, that didn’t stop her from crying. Her family in their ways tried to cheer her up; a futile attempt, that night Lydia slept with more sadness than she had awakened with.

9th, July, 2018.


Lydia was taking her usual 10mins extra in bed thinking about what else can go wrong or right, when she heard the creaking of a door, followed by footsteps. She snapped out from her thoughts, the sound was increasing steadily as if trying not to be heard, and then it stopped… There was silence, Lydia fell back into her thoughts.

“oh God! help me, I don’t even care about dresses and shoes again, please I just don’t want to scar. That will…”


Lydia jumps out of bed to a surprising image of her family all standing across her bed with eager eyes and bright smiles, the dusk light barely illuminating their faces when an awful unsonorous voice broke out from their lips.

“Happy Birthday to you

Dear Lydia

May the good Lord protect you

May he grant unto you all your heart desires

May the good Lord bless you”

Lydia let out a terrifying and relived laugh.

“thank you all”

Though the Wilson’s where low in cash they were always high in spirit, and love. They lift each other up.

Most times we let our anger get the absolute best of us, we often think anger leads to the destruction of others, that it doesn’t directly affect us. How wrong we are! Anger leads to destruction of all, especially ourselves. Sometimes we say things… do things that we just can’t take back. Irrevocable. We “poke” ourselves, it’s okay to grief… to be sad, it’s okay.

Anger is the punishment we give to ourselves for the sins of others.

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