A guy mocked me this morning, he said something about my appearance. I didn't feel awkward, so I pretended not to listen to him and walked away. I continued my steps towards my workplace. And then I prepared my work.
Nearly before lunch time, I did something fatal. I screwed what I was doing, and there was a total mess. I did something wrong. So, my boss scolded me and shouted something about my incapability in handling my work. Oh, he also added that I barely made good things for his company, and so on and so on. Boss, that hurts. During lunch time, I just spent my time alone, thinking.
"Maybe my boss is right, that I can't do any good. All I can do is failing him, and that he cannot put his trust on me. Maybe he's right, that I don't worth that work."
So, I was thinking about a step back. Like a loser, like a quitter.
Maybe my boss is right, that I can't do any good. All I can do is failing him, and that he cannot put his trust on me. Maybe he's right, that I don't worth that work.
Working hours had passed, I walked out of the office and decided to take a walk home. The office was not so far from home, it took only about 15-minute walk. I spent time thinking about my life, it was a mess as well, like all I do was just so stupid. I failed my family, I ran out from home, from dad, and never planned to come back home. I hated to stay with a parent whose intention was only to enjoy my body. He took me, raped me, four times, no, five times. I thought it was true, that I didn't deserve good things, that I was an embarrassment to him, and I had better go and be a beggar or something similar. Maybe it was true, that his wife left him soon after I was born and went on her happy life with another better man. And maybe it was the right choice for me to also left him after all that he'd done to me.
Maybe he is right, that I don’t deserve any of his love.
It was dark but yet a busy road. I was too bothered by my thoughts to even look up and see what was ahead of my way. I kept my head down, so that my tears wouldn't drop on my cheeks. But somebody called me, the voice came from behind my back. I didn't bother to turn around, I didn't care about anyone else, even if there was a truck heading my way, I didn't care. I continued to walk, and it was just a step away from my house.
The voice called me again, by my name. A familiar voice, one that brought back a past memory, back then when I was a child. I didn't know who he was. I turned my head, trying to find out who that was.
There was no one.
I thought I was in a mental illness. So I just ignored whoever he was. "Who cares if I am crazy, anyway?" I thought. I entered my house and reached the old sofa in the living room.
"Who cares if I die?" my wild thoughts had gone to the worst choice of a human being. I planned to end my life, to stop my breath, to face the death.
"Amy..."
Gasp! --that voice again. Who could that be? An intruder? A robber? I didn't care, I was about to die in just a couple minutes. So I reached my bedroom, being unaware of whoever-it-was' presence. Beside my bed, I opened my drawer, and found some of my sleeping pills. Ready and fresh and were in a pretty much big amount to stop my heart from beating.
My hands were a bit unsteady, they were shaking, and sweating. I was afraid, yet I stopped my tears from dropping. I took some of the pills and the shaking of my hands couldn't be stopped that I dropped some of the pills with its case to the floor. I urged to collect the shattered pills, still with my shaking hands, and took a deep breath to calm myself down. I knew it didn't work, my heart protested my action a lot that my hands couldn't stop shaking.
I was afraid. And the thought of whoever-it-was guy flashed into my small mind.
"Masterpiece."
The word struck my mind and stabbed my heart. It was that voice again. The whoever-it-was guy. When would he stop bothering me? I closed my eyes, wondering now where the hell that voice came from.
"Masterpiece." The word struck my mind and stabbed my heart.
"Have you ever made a masterpiece?"
What was he talking about? A masterpiece? Someone like me? Someone ugly, undeserved, weak woman? Made a masterpiece?
"What’s a masterpiece?" I whispered. Just then I thought I was crazy to answer to the voice in my head.
"What do you think?"
"You know, I might be crazy to continue this conversation. Tomorrow, people are going to find my dead body, lying peacefully on this bed, and then it will be the end of my suffering."
"What do you think a masterpiece is?" The voice asked me again. I wasn't sure whose voice that was, I was crazy, that was what I could be certain of.
"Uh..." I hesitated, but who cares? So I continued. "Something that you made with your hands that made you feel proud and that handed you awards and so called things?"
"Yes."
I took some pills from my right hand, it wasn't shaking anymore. Put some of them into my mouth and drank much water. I might need a pause from pills to pills, at least I would finish all pills.
"Have you ever made a masterpiece?" that voice repeated the first question.
"No. I can't make one. I am a dumbass. Someone that wouldn't do any good thing."
"There isn't something you make that makes you feel proud about it?"
I tried to think (and felt bad about it). I found some things that had made me proud. I had ever won a prize in school for a scrapbook competition. It was the first prize I had won in high school. It was categorized as the most unique scrapping. I was proud of what I'd made.
"That can't be considered a masterpiece, can it?" I answered to the voice in my head.
"Were you proud of it?"
"I was."
"Then it is."
"Isn't a masterpiece something you should get approval from the people that are able to judge what you made before you can consider it as a masterpiece?"
"Yes. Did you get people's approval at that time? From the judges?"
"Yeah, kind of. The prize proved it. I got money, a pretty much big amount at that time."
Someone like me? Made a masterpiece? Funny. I had gone real crazy. I couldn’t doubt that anymore.
"I made a masterpiece, too."
"Yeah, you did. Whoever you are."
"It is you."
"Me?"
"The masterpiece that I made, it is you."
"I am crazy. Nobody doubts that now."
"Yeah? So I am your masterpiece. What's so special about it? People don't appreciate my doings, they mock my appearance, they are always true about sending me to hell, they are right that I don't deserve any goodness since I don't make any good to them, they don't approve me, the judges banned me, they all want to get rid of me, even my dad..."
Tears rolled down my cheeks and now was a bad idea to stop the flowing that had rushed too fast.
"You don't need their approval, they're not the experts."
"So, WHAT ARE YOU? YOU ARE... an expert?"
There was a glimpse of emotion in me. After a while. Still thinking about this crazy thought that I was talking to, and a not so pretty topic before dying in this little self-talk conversation.
There was a glimpse of emotion in me. After a while. Still thinking about this crazy thought that I was talking to, and a not so pretty topic before dying in this little self-talk conversation.
"If you were the maker of the earth, you would know what I feel. I feel proud of my masterpiece. I feel proud of you."
"And now you're saying, you're the maker of the earth? You're ins... No, I am insane."
"Have you ever gazed into the sky, seen the stars that are shattered all over the sky, and drawn some lines to connect one star to another just to find maybe the stars looked like a rabbit to you?"
"How, how did you know that?" I was insane, completely. I assured myself.
"I saw you, when you were so small, you loved to gaze the stars on drew lines like connecting the dots in the sky with your little point finger."
"Who are you?"
"I have told you, haven't I?"
"I created things, many things. The things that you can see, the things that you can't. Things that you can reach, things that you can't. I created masterpieces, like the sun, the moon, the stars that put a smile on your face."
"You..."
"Yes, I am God."
Gulp. I was talking to God. A God. I'd forgotten what God is. The creator of me.
"I created a masterpiece. The one that I am talking to."
"Me? A masterpiece?"
"Remember what a masterpiece is? And, yes, I am proud of you. I remember creating you, Amy. I remember it clearly, when you were just a substance, not yet formed, I remember it."
I felt comfortable, and I fell in a deep sleep, knowing that I am loved. That I am a masterpiece. No matter what happened before, to hold on to this thought, to this fact, I have won. I am a masterpiece. No one can change that.
The voice, sounded like he was smiling. Tears dropped again. Now I didn't try to stop it anymore.
"I approve you. How can I not approve my own creation? How should any human approve what you are when you have me, as the creator, who's approved the whole you?"
I couldn’t answer. What could I say? He's the creator. A God. Who could be in any higher place than where He is now? He is the judge over all judges. Who the hell are those people pretend to be judges and say who I am, what I don't deserve, and what I couldn't do?
"Now that you get my point, take away those pills. I don't think it's good to loose a masterpiece. I'd kept you my whole life, now you want to take it away from me?"
"I..."
I was really bad. I was really sorry. I was unable to control what I felt right now. Nor could I control the tears.
"Amy, I love you. You deserve everything good, including my love."
A masterpiece I am. I am not insane, but now I begin to believe this. Somebody's proud of me, and that somebody is God. Who can be in any higher place than where He is right now?
I felt comfortable, and I fell in a deep sleep, knowing that I am loved. That I am a masterpiece. No matter what happened before, to hold on to this thought, to this fact, I have won. I am a masterpiece. No one can change that.
For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.
- Psalm 139:13-16
Finally Amy knows that she is indeed a MASTERPIECE, she is not a mistake, when she met and believed her CREATOR.
