There is me. I'm lying on a tan corduroy sofa, in a
little white summer dress with a picture of an exotic
sunset with a yacht across the chest. it has capped
sleeves and a thin white pvc belt. My mum is huge and
fat and I am an only child for another few weeks. Its
a balmy summer day in August 1981, and I have a box
wrapped in Snoopy paper on my lap. I want the snoopy
paper. I'm not too fussed about the gift inside. I
trace my eyes over the snoopy paper, and look at the
cartoons. I like snoopy - hes a dog and I like dogs.
Its for Scott Thomas. He's my best friend, although
only in the mornings. In the afternoons, he and Claire
Clarkin push me over in the street, and make star
formations in Scotts drive way to stop me getting into
his garden to play. I told his mum and he never did it
again. If you look closely, you can see that right at
this moment, I don't want to go to the party. I want
to keep the snoopy paper. I don't care if there is
parcel the parcel (what I call pass the parcel) and
musical chairs. I want to stay here.
******************************************************
Its 1995. A week into the new spring term at school.
I'm in my trainers and jacket, and waiting for my dad.
I'm sitting on the steps into the sunken living room.
I'm looking to the window, and dreading the day ahead
at school. The smart girls pick on me. I have no
friends. If I ask a question, I'm stupid. If I answer
a question, I'm teachers pet. There are tears forming
in my eyes. Nobody knows why. But I'm about to let go,
and start sobbing, tell my parents everything and
change the path of my entire life.
******************************************************
Its 2003. I'm sitting on the train. I'm looking out
the window, but you just see me pressing my forehead
against the reflection on the dark glass. The snow out
on the embankment is looking beautiful in the
darkness, the orange gauze of streetlamps and the
white glow of the moonlight. I'm trying hard to
concerntrate, and see if I can see the shape of the
windows from the light cast from the carriage onto the
white ground outside. I'm trying to see if I can see
the shape of the pillars of metal casting a shadow.
But look closely, and my breathing is deep, and parted
in deep intakes of a heavy heart. My eyes look glazed
and shiny, and I'm putting all my effort into not
drawing attention to myself from the other passengers.
I want to call someone but I don't know who. I want to
say something, but I don't know what. On the outside
I'm still wearing the same smile, the same mask, but
on the inside I feel I'm half the woman I was six
months ago. Its today. Its this evening. Tomorrow is
doomsday. I'm praying to whoever there might be, that
history will repeat itself in my favour again, and
this is not the time when all my heartfelt belief in
karma and fairness and justice turn their back on me
when I need the courage to rise inside me to face up
to other things. Other people.
******************************************************
Bully (n)(pl. bullies): a person who intimidates or
frightens weaker people.
- The Oxford English Dictionary.
love,
idles
x
=====
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/corduroysmoke/ starting playground gossip and passing notes
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