HE HELD HER SLEEVE
He looked up at his mother, pulling her hand in an effort to attract her attention. She knelt down beside him, holding his small fingers with both hands.
“Don’t you worry“, she whispered, “I would be right here“.
She smiled broadly and kissed his forehead.
He still was not convinced and would not let go of her sleeves. She took him in her arms, hugged him tightly and whispered again, in a way only a mother can.
The boy’s eyes lit gently, he smiled and let go .
He then stepped away, looked around for a friendly location and set off in short dragging steps.
Half way to the door he spun around and screamed as much as his small voice let him:
“I LOVE YOU TOO MUMMY!”
She was still on her knees, her eyes went wet and she stood up.
She waved goodbye. He ran into the class as she reached for her handkerchief.
He never saw the smile that accompanied the tear as it dripped.
I had never spoken to this lady. The first time we ever had a semblance of a conversation was yesterday-and I was rude to her. She had every right to say what she said.
I was on the wrong.
I know I was. There is no justification. I talked back. There were 8 or more persons in the room and when I retorted, the room fell silent. Everyone was surprised. Or so I found out later.
I have been on edge lately and this lady is not the first victim.
I have problems with relationships- not love relationships only, but relationships in general. I find it hard to express myself completely. It’s almost as though my whole being wishes to be misunderstood.
I don’t have a girlfriend, (I could almost say: “Thank goodness”…but then…who am I kidding?).
I can’t stand myself sometimes. I get depressed and I am a total asshole when I want to be-I single handedly hurt my ex-girlfriend, my new friend and now, my ex-girlfriend’s best friend.(:D I just wanted to use ‘friend’ four times in one sentence).
I find it hard to trust and when I do, I overexpect ( is that even a word?”overexpect”…eh…)
Lately, I have reduced the duration of conversations with my brother,(I’m being euphemistic here). If I had it my way, I would live alone. I find it better to handle things in isolation.
I need many things (duh…who doesn’t?)- Books, a new PC, a camera, internet access etc.
The list is not that long. I’m probably exaggerating .I ‘m very good at selling my case anyway.
However, when it comes to feelings-I get really, really dumb.
For example: if I see a lady I like, I freak out (I’m good at hiding it), but then I exhibit this cool, calm, funny even smart (yep…I surprise me self everyday) dude who is very friendly- AT ALL TIMES!
If I see someone I respect or admire, I find a way to mess it up. Someway, somehow I succeed.
News Flash! I am an evil genius!
I have a dark side. I want to believe everyone does. Some are better at managing the explosions.
The problem is: I’m not.
I’m not good at saying: “I’m fine”, when I’m not. I can pretend for a while but after a few hours, if you look at my eyes you can see the pain, the tears, the soundless wailing.
I can’t voice it. I can’t shout. I can’t talk straight.
I keep it inside. It eats and burns; churning and stirring waiting to seep out.
Some days I succeed; most days I fail.
Yesterday I failed.
I burst open.
I burst every day. Every blessed day I burst in silence. I cry and curse behind my smiles and jokes.
The beauty is ,no one sees through. No one hears me.
I wish the tears could drip. That for once, in my fake smile after a crafty joke, someone would pull me over and say:
“Hey man, what’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing is wrong! I can see it in your eyes”.
I apologized later. After a few hours, I went up to her and said; I was sorry about what I told her and explained the situation. I even added: I was hungry and sad. I had a strange face. It showed neither hunger nor sadness.
I actually was both and even more.
But I was truly sorry.
She smiled and said:” It’s Ok”. That she had felt really surprised at my words but that it was Ok.
I didn’t feel it was Ok. I still don’t.
I will write extensively on that someday…
may be never.
But right now all I feel is anger towards these prison schools.
For one particular reason- I miss my sisters.
Yeah laugh at me…at least I can admit it to myself.
Don’t get me wrong- I went to a boarding school.
For seven years of my precious life, I had to wake up by 4. 30am six times a week, take a freezing bath ,eat poorly prepared food(note to self: write about that food) and transform into someone my parents barely recognize.
I grew up in school.
Mentally, physically and worse -emotionally *gasps*!
The sad part is THE SAME THING is happening to my siblings.
ALL OF THEM.
My younger brother will be going to college this year.
At least he survived.
But my sweet sisters have two more years of incarceration.
You attend mass four (4) times a week.
You have chores.
If you don’t do them.
Well…you get more chores.
You get bullied.
Verbally, physical, mentally , emotionally and academically bullied.
I had my first heart break in boarding school.
My first crush (note to self: full blog post dude…this experience was hot hot *grins*)
My first betrayal.
My first best friend.
I wish I could say my first kiss…but that is a lie.
I was never smart enough to catch when a girl crushed on me. (NTS: blog post buddy, rich content here! :D)
I could not “chat” (court ) ladies properly.
I was (still am) eccentric, awkward, geeky, boring, uninteresting , socially unstable and for the most part uninterested.
Depressing. I’m skipping that part.
I was smart though.
I’m worried about my sisters.
They left for school on the 2nd of September.
It’s not like we are the best of siblings. We hardly talk actually.
Like talk talk.
But we like each other.
I daresay we love each other.
We have fun.
We fight (mostly).
We make up (…sometimes).
They are 14 and 16.
Imagine what hormone surges can do?
They are in an examination class too.
So they will be writing the first really difficult government examination of their lives.
I pray they make it.
I made it in that same freaking school.
I know they will.
Why you ask?
I just have faith.