fast mind. big heart. a keen sense of seeing through phoniness. a keen sense of seeing through lies. watching young girls at school cling to each other out of insecurities and fear. observing them making fun of other’s out of insecurity and fear. putting d list celebrities on pedastals and screaming and shouting at them as if they had just seen GOD when in fact they just saw some useless youtuber who makes make up videos. sick. sad. parents of these kids sickening and bored. dull and lost. living their lives through their kids while offering up no opinions at school with teachers and the curriculum. just wanting their kids to be popular. popular at the expense of conviction. at the expense of real friends. popular at the expense of a backbone and of opinions. worried who they would offend. “OH PLEASE HONEY. SIT YOUR FAT ASS DOWN AND TIE UP MY SHOE. I WILL GIVE YOU AN AUTOGRAPHED SELFIE!!!!”
SELFIE. WHAT THE FUCK IS A SELFIE? why have they taken over? and based on observation on my IG why does this disease affect women more than men? a sick disease. a narcissistic disease. a disease, once again, based and mired in insecurities and lack of love. “HEY MARGE…LET ME TAKE A SELFIE WITH HARDLY ANY CLOTHES ON AND SEE HOW MANY “LIKES” I GET.”
how painfully pathetic and sad. artists turning over in their graves watching such peasants pretending to be artists. pretending to be seekers of truth. pretending to be activists. pretending to be unique. pretending to be “ballsy.” pretending to cry. pretending to have an opinion. an opinion that they think is unique but is the opinion of every other sheep. every other donkey. opinions that get applause from the masses and “likes” on facebook but DO NOT challenge anything. just a useless opinion by a useless artist. when your opinion is that dull and that meaningless do us all a favour and take a bikini selfie and get a thousand likes. this way I DO NOT have to waste time reading rehashed boredom and rehashed opinions that put me to sleep. fucking fake artists with their fake smiles and fake hair and fake teeth and fake opinions and fake laughs and fake friends and fake parents and fake clothes and fake lips and fake tears and fake anger. FUCK ALL ARTISTS WHO ARE NOT ARTISTS BUT PRETEND TO BE ARTISTS WHICH IS WORSE THAN THE MERE PEASANT WHO OFFERS UP NOTHING BUT SITS IN HIS GARAGE DRINKING SHITTY BEER AND SCREAMING AT HIS TV. GO VOTE AND GET EXCITED. PRETEND THAT YOU ARE MAKING A DIFFERENCE. BUT A DIFFERENCE TO WHO? A DIFFERENCE TO WHAT? FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
over forty years ago a young girl asked her Mom in Etobicoke if she could take the elevator down to the lobby of their apartment building to meet her friend to go swimming for the day. it was hot. the summer break had just begun. her Mom was running a daycare out of her apartment and was quite busy so she told her daughter, Nicole, that it was fine. she could go. Nicole was so excited and she quickly changed into her bathing suit, grabbed a towel, and ran out of her apartment. she waited for the elevator to come. she was alone but her friend was waiting in the lobby. the elevator arrived and Nicole jumped in. she hit the “lobby” button and the elevator doors closed. SHE HAS NEVER BEEN SEEN SINCE. she did not arrive in the lobby to meet her friend. her friend waited for awhile and then called Nicole’s apartment. Nicole’s Mom answered and said, “Oh you know Nicole. She probably ran into someone she knows. I am sure she will be there soon.” BUT SHE NEVER ARRIVED. her friend eventually left to go swimming by herself. Nicole’s Mom continued to run her daycare. Nicole’s Dad at work and completely unaware of what was the beginning of a NIGHTMARE that would change all of their lives forever.
Dinner time arrives and still no Nicole. her friend now at home. her Dad now at home. her Mom at home. kids all gone. Nicole’s Mom called Nicole’s friend and she told her that Nicole never arrived to go swimming. FEAR SET IN. FEAR. PANIC. WONDER. Nicole’s Mom called other’s in the apartment. no sign of Nicole. FEAR. FEAR. FEAR. She then called the police and they came to the apartment and did a “door to door” search. nothing. nowhere. she went missing without a trace.
that summer was filled with searches and hope combined with silence and fear. “what happened? where did she go? who took her? why?”
so many questions and, unfortunately, none were ever answered.
Nicole Morin went missing over forty years ago. In Etobicoke. mass searches. many leads. many tips. many false alarms. but still NOTHING. no sign. lost hope. sad. lonely. loss. wonder. worry.
the parents eventually got a divorce. they could not take the emotional toll of their only daughter missing and gone without a clue. without closure.
Nicole Morin.
what happened?
her Mom recently died of cancer never knowing what happened to her young and precious baby. slowly dying a painful death both physically and emotionally.
her Dad still going to church and still praying hoping for a miracle. hoping for closure. hoping for his “love” to somehow appear forty years later. I am sure he is even hoping for bad news. he is just hoping for some closure. closure for him. closure for her. closure.
what a sad life.
I cannot imagine losing your only daughter this way and never ever knowing what happened to her.
he sits alone in his apartment. Nicole’s bedroom has not changed since the day she left to go swimming. same stuffies. same bed. same clothes. same pillow.
sad.
lonely.
loss.
unknown.
why?
who?
this story hit me hard when I was ten years old back in Unionville.
but it hits me even harder now. married and with my own daughter. so beautiful. so precious. so unique.
how could your life go on without ever knowing what happened to your precious daughter?
life.
notanotherphony. 