.."It's strange that I long so much for yesterday when tomorrow might be the best day I've ever had"..
I do not believe that home is a specific location, or family a certain group of people. Home is where you feel safe. Family is with whom you feel safe.
Walking home today in the light rain, with the feeling of home in my veins, I still felt a slight alienation. I miss some things. I am not completely heartless. I miss some people, some people with whom I feel safe with. It's a bit sad not being able to see them. It makes me feel lonely and a bit insecure. I miss being able to play an instrument, I miss being able to hang around the house I miss being able to steal something from the fridge without asking I miss having trouble finding my keys I miss... I miss the certainity that tomorrow will be the same, predictable reality that today, that yesterday, that the entire last week had. I miss not being listened to, I miss feeling lonely, I miss not being approached by people that somehow pity me. It's strange that I long so much for yesterday when tomorrow might be the best day I've ever had.
I remember once when I found a little bird that had fallen out of it's nest. I did not want any harm to come to the poor creature, so I tried to seal it inside a hollow tree so that it wouldn't get eaten or anything.
The teacher called us in for another lesson and the entire time I sat inside, longing to get out and see how the bird was. When I finally was released from the chair and benches, from pens and blackboards, the bird was nowhere to be seen. The seemingly powerless little creature had somehow made its way through the branches I'd tried to seal its exit with, and had disolved itself into earth and air. I never saw a trace of that bird again.
At the age of six I was all I needed to be. The world was bright and I find too much trouble remembering the rainy days to afford them any attention. My friends were ignorant and stubborn and I think I loved them, even though I was not completely sure what love is. In those of my memories, the world is a heaven where the grass is so green it hurts your eyes and the sugar so sweet that even thunder sounds like singing. In reality it was different. Children get cold, children get hungry, children argue with their siblings and children annoy their parents, that is their role in society. It is a difficult role to play since you still have the need to be loved, even if you haven't quite figured out what love is for. You consider it a kind of reward -If you are good, you get love, if you are bad you don't get love but you know they they probably love you anyway. When your parents don't seem to love each other, they might not love you either. That is when the trouble begins. My parents divorced when I was still to young to notice anything, but my two-year older sister did. She would hide behind the coats and jackets in the hallway when dad came to pick up his things because she thought he was mad at her. What many people do not realise is how sensitive to changes children are. Even a one year old understands the difference between good and bad. They made a study when they would show a little child two different objects in different settings. In the first experiment they would let one of the objects help the other object and in the second experiment they would do the opposite. The results showed that the children that had viewed the "good" scene were positive towards the helping object. They would also show dislike towards the object that had been "mean". That would prove thay they feel more sympathy than most grown up in our society. Luckily for me, my parents never hated each other, even when divorced.
I grew up in a stable environment. I lived in two houses, had more things than the other kids and I had two parents that loved me, even when I was a pain. Life was actually kinda great. The great fall downward didn't ocur until my first year in school. Until then I ran between my mothers house and my fathers house, I had friends and I was happy. I remember my dads first house. A red house, much like my mom's, with whites around the windows and a long concrete staircase to the front door. We had a black Sierra car with top railings and sunflowers in the garden. Moms house is still the same, a red semi-house with whites around the windows and begonias in pots on our terrace. We had wild strawberries growing close to the fence.
I have never needed anyone, yet I've always searched for comfort and stability, of that kind that you only can find in other people. My own mind was a good friend, but spending all days talking to yourself gets one-dimensional after a while. I still don't need anyone, and I long for confirmation in everything I do. It's a pity I am not as inventional as I used to be. Had I been able to create my own friends the way I used to, maybe I would have been a better person. Not that I strive only for the prefection of myself, no. I only hope for the security of those whom I love. I'd never ask of anyone else to shield me as I have shielded them. I have no right to demand such a thing.
...
As a six-year old, I was the queen of the world.
Short story by Eléa
Read 391 times
Written on 2008-09-30 at 23:40
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Talking about me I
Walking home today, I thought about myself for a bit. I thought about what differs here from back home and I came to the conclusion that colours were what troubled me. You see, at home, when it rains, everything becomes gray. It is as if life suddenly turnes into a shadow version where colours and contrast cease to exist. However, here is different. When it rains, which it does fairly often, the colours remain. They do not flee into a shadow of the dampness, they shine through more clearly. There are so many little particles flying around contiminating the clearness of the skies, but when it rains, they go away. Fought away. It becomes more like home. Not because it rains back home, not because of a lack of colour. It's because of the scents, the feeling of the wind, the silence. It feels safe.I do not believe that home is a specific location, or family a certain group of people. Home is where you feel safe. Family is with whom you feel safe.
Walking home today in the light rain, with the feeling of home in my veins, I still felt a slight alienation. I miss some things. I am not completely heartless. I miss some people, some people with whom I feel safe with. It's a bit sad not being able to see them. It makes me feel lonely and a bit insecure. I miss being able to play an instrument, I miss being able to hang around the house I miss being able to steal something from the fridge without asking I miss having trouble finding my keys I miss... I miss the certainity that tomorrow will be the same, predictable reality that today, that yesterday, that the entire last week had. I miss not being listened to, I miss feeling lonely, I miss not being approached by people that somehow pity me. It's strange that I long so much for yesterday when tomorrow might be the best day I've ever had.
I remember once when I found a little bird that had fallen out of it's nest. I did not want any harm to come to the poor creature, so I tried to seal it inside a hollow tree so that it wouldn't get eaten or anything.
The teacher called us in for another lesson and the entire time I sat inside, longing to get out and see how the bird was. When I finally was released from the chair and benches, from pens and blackboards, the bird was nowhere to be seen. The seemingly powerless little creature had somehow made its way through the branches I'd tried to seal its exit with, and had disolved itself into earth and air. I never saw a trace of that bird again.
At the age of six I was all I needed to be. The world was bright and I find too much trouble remembering the rainy days to afford them any attention. My friends were ignorant and stubborn and I think I loved them, even though I was not completely sure what love is. In those of my memories, the world is a heaven where the grass is so green it hurts your eyes and the sugar so sweet that even thunder sounds like singing. In reality it was different. Children get cold, children get hungry, children argue with their siblings and children annoy their parents, that is their role in society. It is a difficult role to play since you still have the need to be loved, even if you haven't quite figured out what love is for. You consider it a kind of reward -If you are good, you get love, if you are bad you don't get love but you know they they probably love you anyway. When your parents don't seem to love each other, they might not love you either. That is when the trouble begins. My parents divorced when I was still to young to notice anything, but my two-year older sister did. She would hide behind the coats and jackets in the hallway when dad came to pick up his things because she thought he was mad at her. What many people do not realise is how sensitive to changes children are. Even a one year old understands the difference between good and bad. They made a study when they would show a little child two different objects in different settings. In the first experiment they would let one of the objects help the other object and in the second experiment they would do the opposite. The results showed that the children that had viewed the "good" scene were positive towards the helping object. They would also show dislike towards the object that had been "mean". That would prove thay they feel more sympathy than most grown up in our society. Luckily for me, my parents never hated each other, even when divorced.
I grew up in a stable environment. I lived in two houses, had more things than the other kids and I had two parents that loved me, even when I was a pain. Life was actually kinda great. The great fall downward didn't ocur until my first year in school. Until then I ran between my mothers house and my fathers house, I had friends and I was happy. I remember my dads first house. A red house, much like my mom's, with whites around the windows and a long concrete staircase to the front door. We had a black Sierra car with top railings and sunflowers in the garden. Moms house is still the same, a red semi-house with whites around the windows and begonias in pots on our terrace. We had wild strawberries growing close to the fence.
I have never needed anyone, yet I've always searched for comfort and stability, of that kind that you only can find in other people. My own mind was a good friend, but spending all days talking to yourself gets one-dimensional after a while. I still don't need anyone, and I long for confirmation in everything I do. It's a pity I am not as inventional as I used to be. Had I been able to create my own friends the way I used to, maybe I would have been a better person. Not that I strive only for the prefection of myself, no. I only hope for the security of those whom I love. I'd never ask of anyone else to shield me as I have shielded them. I have no right to demand such a thing.
...
As a six-year old, I was the queen of the world.
Short story by Eléa
Read 391 times
Written on 2008-09-30 at 23:40
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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