Losing Reality Seguir blog

Year 0

I was born in England, Trowbridge hospital. Although from the womb, I have always been stubborn. My mother spent nine whole hours in the hospital waiting for me to enter the world.

When my mother was pregnant with me, she visited Paris, London all big cities and all my life, I've pictured being in those places. What it would have been like to be in such a big city.

My father and mother argued on what to name me. My mother wanted to name me Aurora. Not after the princess but because it means beauty, cleverness, friendly. However, my father did not like it so they decided to name me Rose which in my mothers eyes, was shorter for Aurora.

When I eventually did enter the world, I broke my arm coming out from the womb and as everyone knows, a babies bones are very fragile. From the moment I was born, my mother did not hold me until a week after as the hospital kept me, healing my arm.

I guess I've always felt kind of bad for her, giving birth to a stubborn one like me and not being able to hold me. I think that's where my sadness sprites from.

When I was born, my mother and father were together, not married but together but for the first year of my life, all I can hear is arguments which is strange as I don't remember anything but that.

I was a very, lets say, adventurous child. I started walking at eight months old which is very clever for that age and from then, I always liked to run off.

When my mother would take me to towns, she had me on a lead as it was almost predictable for me to try and run again.

My mother, father and I lived in Devizes. A small but peaceful town. We settled in a small part of Devizes, near woods and parks. I had a very big front and back garden which was good for a littler runner like me.

In the front garden was a turtle shaped sand pit, a small wooden shed, a big glass green house, a patio and a big car space.

My mother would carry me into the greenhouse to look at all the weeds and plants that grew there and she would put me on top of her black car and let me watch the world from up high.

I suppose I was always quite close with my mother but my father was another story. I love him but he was always so distant. Always doing his own thing.

I was a single child which was nice but I always felt quite lonely. That's where my loneliness came from. Until when I was eleven months old, my mother had another daughter.

They named her Olivia although I could never pronounce it so I always called her Zar.

We were the same age for about a couple of weeks as her birthday is February 17th and mine is March 5th.

My sister was never a stubborn one but gosh she was fussy. On literally everything but I dealt with it and so did my mother.

I became an older sister and I was happy about it.