I remember running down those stairs, knowing that there’s always someone there to hug that excited kid.
I remember what it felt like to burst out in tears and sob, knowing that there’s always someone to tell me that these kids are just jealous.
Playing with the dolls thinking I’m as pretty as them.
Believing in myself?
When did the clouds come to obscure the sun? I took no notice.
When did Pandora close her box and captivate shiny hope? I did not know.
When did the spinning ballerina stop? Did she really?
I thought I captured everything in a jar, but the glass shattered.
I thought I was able to soothe people.
I thought this was foreign to me.
I could flabbergast everyone who waved off my foolish thoughts.
It was all within our hands but we choose the easy way.
That true love existed.
Now I’m soggy with broken words owning sharp ends.
Now I know I need to be diagnosed.
Now I know that I’m run over because knowing that you are annoying is annoying.
Now I know…
I am not worth a penny.
I am just viewed as another attention seeker.
Some lives are just so brittle.
Nobody is a person, they suffocate in silence, and do not long for days, for everything rhymes, except themselves. Nobody watches the world and their skin, shade from mauve to grey. Nobody is not cute and oblivious. Nobody gazes at me in a glass, and walks with their fingers on the rough crust of my back. Nobody is the trapped sand between my toes, mediocre and unable to spray pixie dust, to push themselves to the bubble of hatred. Nobody caught a glimpse of themselves, wobbling on their path to heaven, almost losing themselves in what’s worse than an utterly dark, bottomless pit. Nobody is not really important. Nobody is porous, and forgets the things that they appreciated minutes ago. Nobody is the warm side of a pillow, the acrobat that lost grip and ruined the show. Nobody is boring, the second candle to be put out. Nobody is counterfeit, like almost everything in this universe. Nobody does not yell out, but composes pieces of tissues. Nobody trails off…
Nobody is the complete set of my genetics.
Love her, she can entrance you when I can not keep you for seconds.
Love her, you can float together in endless skies.
Love her, you are as free as long-lost birds.
Love her, queer things are sometimes lovely.
Love her, but brilliant things are always frenzy.
Love her, jealousy cuts me open, yet the sight of crimson keeps me moving.
Love her, she captivates you, while I stand there secretely longing.
Love her, she would not ask you to love someone else.
Love her, I am willing to go on living with pretence.
Love her, for I am always the one loved less.
Love her, I used to shield you from the rain and now it’s gone.
Love her, I am used to the state of being forlorn.
Love her, she’s here right now, you wouldn’t want to miss the train.
Love her, love her, love her, just don’t do it in front of me.
She rang the door bell, waited for a few minutes, heard the usual buzzing sound, then pushed the door open. It was Monday, and she climbed upstairs in a weary manner but hopeful somehow. She reminded herself once more that fixing her attention towards her tutor is far more beneficial than with Matt but, it was of no use, she couldn’t help herself. As she strolled across the lobby, she caught a glimpse of him at the far end of the dining table, busy texting, as usual. It was a common sight actually, very agitating, but common. People holding on to their phones to what seems to be forever, eating while doing it possibly! However, when Matt did it (he was his phone’s addict she was afraid) she felt languid, and it rather emphasized on the fact that she felt so forlorn, further more, it has been months since she last ventured to school, so she had no interactions of people her age whatsoever.
“Hi,” she said, slumping down on one of the wooden chairs. She thought he replied with a distracted ‘hey’ but she wasn’t sure.
“How’s school?” she said in her best imitation of a thrilled, cheerful tone.
“Good,” he replied without his eyes leaving the phone’s screen for a second.
“Um, what did you do on the weekend?” she enquired, this time, a more desperate tone.
“Went out.” still eyes glued to screen, fingers busy typing.
“Ooh, where?” she had to repeat herself.
“To the mall.”
“Am I, um, irritating you?”
And for the next three minutes or so, all her questions were either answered with shaking of the head, a nod, or plain silence.
Their tutor finally emerged from the back door, he was a man in his late thirties, with a stocky figure. As he waddled towards the miniature white board, he greeted them with a fervent smile.
“How are you, dear children?” he asked.
“Fine, thank you, and you?” she replied.
“I’m fine, shall we get started?”, then noticing Matt barely taking off his eye sight to meet his own gaze, he added, “I feel obligated to take this away from you for the next few hours.” then placed it on a serving table nearby, he chuckled briefly then said to her, “Teenagers these days…” and she giggled as if she was not Matt’s contemporary. Matt seemed annoyed with the absence of his phone so she suppressed her smile abruptly. As the tutor, Mr. Thomas, wrote the first few letters of the title of the lesson on the creaking board, they heard his wife, or so she supposed, calling from a room inside the veiled hallway.
“Just a second,” Mr. Thomas winced apologetically.
Matt leapt up from his chair, reached for the phone but then realized it was out of charge, then cussed under his breath. He returned back, inserted his head phones and was about to put his head down when she said:
“Why are you so obsessed with your- oh, I’m completely sorry, you were going to- uh…” she kept on pausing uncertainly as he took off one of the headphones and stared blankly at her, awaiting her question.
“Yes?” he asked, confused, with a tinge of exasperation.
“Nothing,” she shook her head, and when he raised his eyebrows, “for real.” she assured. Seeing that, he put down his head again, then, because she wanted to get some dignity, took out the book she was currently reading from her bag, “Great Expectations”. The funny thing was that she exactly knew what Pip felt in there. It wasn’t long before Mr. Thomas re-entered the dimly lit class room, she immediately put the book away and looked upon her tutor eagerly, a sponge ready to absorb information, disturbingly fluctuated, unfortunately. Mr. Thomas didn’t bother to wake Matt up initially, then, giving it a second thought, shook Matt’s back gently. Matt’s hair was messed up in a very alluring way she thought, as he gave one of his blank stares on Mr. Thomas.
“I’m sick of this place,” he blurted out, “don’t tell me you’ll call my father I’ve had enough rows,” he clenched his teeth then added, ” all you ever think about is academics and crap! I’m stuck in this place, because of my dad only you know that?! I’m just sick of-” Matt continued yelling outrageously with occasional coarse slang words slipping in deliberately. There was nothing else she could do and she felt doltish more than helpless. He was ‘stuck’ in this place. He sweared without taking account of her presence. Save the description for Mimi, girl- she said to herself.
We were walking down the path, kicking the pebbles playfully, with tufts of hair occassionally obscuring our eye sight. It was a sunny-windy day, an unusual weather I was fond of; warm yet cool.
“So, what did you guys do this weekend?”, Adam enquired.
“Oh nothing,” replied Emily, “except for go to that Science Musuem.” She shrugged off. She shrugged off.
“That’s so fascinating.” I could sense he was making an effort in hiding his perplexed state.
“I didn’t even do that,” I seemed to be interrupting something, but I went on, “I just stayed at home, does home-made pedicure count?”, that’s what I always did, ask questions in order to mingle in a conversation, otherwise my words are just as insignificant as my presence altogether.
“I read this book,” Adam gleamed, inched closer to Emily sideways, and made an I-know-you’ll-like-this gesture, “it has a detailed section about symbiotic behaviours.”
“Cool.” I said, while Emily nodded casually.
My thoughts then decided to wander off, I watched Adam continue chatting as if in mute, and also noticed his benign gaze at Emily. The agitating thing was Emily acted as if she didn’t care. I sometimes wonder how oblivious people get when it comes to obvious situations as these. I could actually walk out of the path, no, grow some wings and fly around and they wouldn’t notice a thing. It even reached to the point that Adam often started off with a topic I don’t even know about, Physics being a major example, and I would just tag along with them like a complete idiot. We were supposed to be friends, the three of us, but things were heading the wrong way. To make things worse, Adam was, as a matter of fact, my all time best buddy, but he was being recklessly snatched away. Emily was my friend and all, but that was too brutal for me to let it slide, not that it was her fault, technically speaking. I despised the idea of Adam and Emily being an item, I was hopeless, I would ptactically dive in a pool of petrol just to set things in their right place…