A Story Should Be Shared OK!


The sun is warm against the window glass.  I wish I can open the window and breathe the fresh air, but I am not allowed. So I keep my chair, that I moved from my desk, right here next to the window. Watching and watching and watching.  What am I watching?  The day go by. That in of itself is a story that should be shared.

I am simply Rhona. My name has quite a few meanings, and all of them are exquisite in calm and tranquility.  My name craves creativity and quiet show.  I do say that I like that.  In times of despair I look at the meaning of my name and it helps to center me, sometimes.

Centering is not where I am right now. Due to some unfortunate situations, I am otherwise occupied in this new residence of mine, that I like to call “Catatonia”.  This is not my actual room, but so close.  I could not bear for you to see my true room, or at least not yet.  I must get to know you first.

I agreed to share a piece of myself to you.  If my story can help someone than it will be worth the struggle of this travesty and typing.  I cannot believe that Ava got me this electronic contraption.  I like paper, pencils and pens.  Yet I do understand that this may help for various reasons.  So I must deal with it to the best of my ability, right? I don’t know just yet ok!

I may have a story to tell, and by golly is it a hoot, a doozy, a whatever word you choose to use.  Maybe she hopes it would help me heal, but I told her don’t bet the horses.  She should not be a betting gal, at all.

I do not speak, or I barely speak, so I don’t know how much it counts.  I would say that I speak about five percent, otherwise I am silent.  I feel like being silent.  My brain may have a lot to say, but my mouth does not feel like cooperating.  Over the years I have done nothing but repeat myself, so I have had it.  I do not want to yap with anyone or do small talk.  Write me a letter on paper, or on this thing and maybe we can talk turkey.

The few that I correspond with understand my demands.  They do not like it at all, especially when they come to visit me.  That is usually not much fun for them.  One word answers not fun for them, especially since they travel quite a distance to visit me.  Do I feel bad about it? I do admit that I feel a smidge bad, but not enough to start the yapping and repeating and rehashing.  Save it for another day or another time.

Today I am all alone and watching as the sun sits at the height of the day, so it must be 2pm.  The trees look lovely as they softly rustle in the breeze.  It must be a wonderful weather day out there, but unfortunately I am not allowed to take a walk. My world of “Catatonia” forbids it.  Well, I can certainly try at some point to get my butt out there and take a walk.

Luckily for Ava, Dr. Dingdong allowed for this electronic thing to be in my room.  And I get a room to myself.  Aahh…solitude is a wonderful thing, even though it is here.  He believes that it will help me in the long run.

So…chime in sometime. You never know.  I am doing this as a favor, I can hope that a little feedback would be in order.  Yes, my next segment will give you a bit more.  I was instructed to write an  introduction.  So an introduction I have just done.

Hi.  Hi.  Hi. From the room of “Cacahoot” Rhona.  No, cacahoot is not a bad word, it just means silly or unique or unusual.  Pick your potion on it.

Be warned that the next segment may have some disturbing stories.  Nothing to want to pluck your eyes out, just serious stuff.  You have been warned.

So now I am saying chow for now….

The sun will be setting soon and I don’t want to miss the warmth on my skin.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s