Can You Read My Mind? (bp coyle)

It started with my Mother, I guess that is true of most people. Mother’s are strange creatures. Weird.

I realised early on that my Mother was weirder than most. She wasn’t the only one late collecting me from school. She wasn’t the only one who screamed at their child or back-handed them if they were misbehaving or giving cheek.

She was the only one who could read minds. My mind that is. She always knew exactly what I was thinking. I often got a good clout around the ear because she happened to tune into my thoughts at a bad moment.

It’s not like she was clairvoyant or anything, she couldn’t do it with anyone else. At first, for many years, I thought it was some special family bond. Then I discovered that it was really all about me. Lots of people can read my mind, it happens more and more as I get older.

I have lost jobs interviews because of it. Girls always turn me down when I ask for a date, they can see inside me, see that I am too damaged, too broken.

I have to keep away from everyone. Forever.

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