Did I prepare a speech? Did I? The syllables cross my mind, letting me rest from embarrassment as the word ‘cute’ echoes in my brain. Suddenly I fell guilt take over me. I had no idea what to ask. The moment impossible, never coming as days came, the hanging people with no dreams to achieve, luring, closing my eyes with the possibility of having the mouth shut as well. I mean, I believed, I prepared. But all I did was think about everything in general. Would I find a job? I should shove that topic away into the corners of tomorrow because today is unpacking day, how fun! As if I will. And I have other problems to solve at the current moment. It seemed as far as the end of the world or global warming. I mean let’s look clearly should I be thinking about global warming right now? Oh, God, bad example, I suck at arguing, I think of the weirdest arguments which lead me into being the so-called loser. And I kept thinking about my future class.
Mrs. Posh Queen Bee, Mr. Druggie, Mrs. I love Marlboro, Mr. I draw socks better and I should rule the world with my cow socks and tons of other fascinating students. And of course the poetic change which really does feel like a second chance at life with plastic surgery (not that I had), but it felt that my oval face was new and saying what’s up? Nobody here knows if I have a gf if I have ever seen some rock star buying aspirin first thing in the morning after a rough night. I mean I can be anybody! I can even be the prime minister in disguise. Not that I want to, but still.
Can I be Ronald McDonald? I always wanted to work in McDonald’s when I was kid thinking that I’d get all the fast food all day long and for free. And guess what? Everybody has a weird childhood.
Everything was oddly different in one way and pathetic, identical in the other, I felt like a useless clone which ended up being a celebrity leaving the past behind in the shadows. I mean my city never was that big to begin with. But then, I think that my hometown beats the population and perhaps the size of the city where I currently am which I will now live, breath, eat, drink, multiply in. But then my city was just like a gray spot on the globe and this one is a big deal with the capital B and D. So welcome to the B and D, I thought smiling inside my head to that thought.
A bright sun alone.
So technically the more I thought, the more I realize that now, yes now I was here. I kept echoing that in my head a lot, like dropping a bucket of cold water above my head. I was here, now, I was here. I wished for this for so long, for that university. The thought wouldn’t leave me as if it were a reminder to calm myself down, because I was here. I had no fear of ending up somewhere where I would not want to. Of course, now I had to hold myself from screwing up, I was here, but still. I was here. I should focus instead of chanting in my head like it was some prayer.
Maybe I kept repeating that because I am scared?
I am.
I am afraid that this is a dream and soon that relaxing cold water will turn into ice cubes, hit my head, cut my skin, let blood pour out, exposing myself to the reality. A lost thought, a lost memory, hidden and forgotten, now unnecessary as the future is grasped. That’s not my reality. This is my reality. This is my home?
It is.
I am home. Here I am, sitting near the door with an amazing dumb smile plastered on my face, staring at Kayleen, Converse, Kayleen, Converse, closing the door Kayleen, Converse on the floor forgotten with the shoelace untied and then we made eye contact once more.
I am… home?
Am I?
As if to check I jerk my head up, right, left, down like an idiot, trying to consume the fact that I am home. I didn’t feel complete as if there is something was missing, as if there was a risk to fall, to fall down and not see that small light which kept me going, that small root sticking out which I grip rather tight, deadly afraid to let it go and be swallowed. Swallowed? By what? By failure, that after all these years and all those endless contests, medals and everything which would lead me here. I even felt different, I could feel myself inhale the air.
It was different. All I had to do was exhale the fear, not the homesick for that home, for my parents and inhale something which would make me homesick for this, for this home, for these yellow stripy walls, for that wooden door, the gray mat which I now sat on and for the rest of the house which I had not seen, but was brightly shown on the memories of tomorrow.
I had to believe, I had to realize, and I had to celebrate. I was here.
I was paying half the rent.
I was getting a job.
Above that…
I had the billions of dreams, like doors, now I was standing in front of them. It was as if today was my lucky day, my first step only I was sure that there would be no hard falls, no broken bones, scars like the ones once grasped. The painful ones now in the past, soon to be forgotten, soon to slowly fade and to be remembered with a uneasy laugh and morphing into a soft, easy laugh leading to a smile, to be a reminder. That I did it.
It was like a treasure box at some time, buried once, forgotten twice, which I kept unlocked, throwing impossible wishes under a lock of fate, until I could open them, afraid that I’d let them slip away from me if I’d open them, yell out my dreams, the possibilities I desired to have.
And now, the treasure chest blasted open, throwing the dreams straightly at me, going past me, no, going inside me, going deeper, filling me with golden hope. They kept running threw my head, as if they were a long forgotten friend.
He was telling me things I was bound to fight for, but leaving them there, as if fighting without the target but knowing the great reward, not knowing the amount of money, but knowing that there was going to be loads of it, allowing me to dive in it, let it hold me down to the bottom where the past was the sky. Unreachable and long gone.
Now the imaginary friend, which I considered to be my fantasy, which I believed very deep down, he, my sweet friend, was real. Now he was more than real, we were having a chat and he was telling me about the things, the thoughts I once shared with him. Now he was leaving me to decided what to choose out of that list, of what I really desired. He was more than real. He smelled nice, he smelled new, the smell I waited so long. The smell which the house smelt. I inhaled, exhaling slowly.
Home.
I was home.
Maybe I mouthed those words, maybe I spoke them aloud, maybe I shouted them, maybe I ran out onto the street, took my sweater and my shirt off, threw off the sweater into some unknown direction, not caring and I waved my shirt around like a flag. Who cares that it was white? Yes, I gave up, my dreams won over me and they brought me here. Fate made-out with consciousness. I guess I said that aloud simple, boring four letter word because Kayleen looked at me amazed, dazzled, ok, freaked out. But then it was a weird action, it really was, but then I meant it. I really did. But in the end after a short struggle, and watching me with that ear to ear happy grin, she smiled. Kayleen tilted her head sideways, the smile not coming off any time soon. Ever.
I was home.
Chapter 4
Mrs. Posh Queen Bee, Mr. Druggie, Mrs. I love Marlboro, Mr. I draw socks better and I should rule the world with my cow socks and tons of other fascinating students. And of course the poetic change which really does feel like a second chance at life with plastic surgery (not that I had), but it felt that my oval face was new and saying what’s up? Nobody here knows if I have a gf if I have ever seen some rock star buying aspirin first thing in the morning after a rough night. I mean I can be anybody! I can even be the prime minister in disguise. Not that I want to, but still.
Can I be Ronald McDonald? I always wanted to work in McDonald’s when I was kid thinking that I’d get all the fast food all day long and for free. And guess what? Everybody has a weird childhood.
Everything was oddly different in one way and pathetic, identical in the other, I felt like a useless clone which ended up being a celebrity leaving the past behind in the shadows. I mean my city never was that big to begin with. But then, I think that my hometown beats the population and perhaps the size of the city where I currently am which I will now live, breath, eat, drink, multiply in. But then my city was just like a gray spot on the globe and this one is a big deal with the capital B and D. So welcome to the B and D, I thought smiling inside my head to that thought.
A bright sun alone.
So technically the more I thought, the more I realize that now, yes now I was here. I kept echoing that in my head a lot, like dropping a bucket of cold water above my head. I was here, now, I was here. I wished for this for so long, for that university. The thought wouldn’t leave me as if it were a reminder to calm myself down, because I was here. I had no fear of ending up somewhere where I would not want to. Of course, now I had to hold myself from screwing up, I was here, but still. I was here. I should focus instead of chanting in my head like it was some prayer.
Maybe I kept repeating that because I am scared?
I am.
I am afraid that this is a dream and soon that relaxing cold water will turn into ice cubes, hit my head, cut my skin, let blood pour out, exposing myself to the reality. A lost thought, a lost memory, hidden and forgotten, now unnecessary as the future is grasped. That’s not my reality. This is my reality. This is my home?
It is.
I am home. Here I am, sitting near the door with an amazing dumb smile plastered on my face, staring at Kayleen, Converse, Kayleen, Converse, closing the door Kayleen, Converse on the floor forgotten with the shoelace untied and then we made eye contact once more.
I am… home?
Am I?
As if to check I jerk my head up, right, left, down like an idiot, trying to consume the fact that I am home. I didn’t feel complete as if there is something was missing, as if there was a risk to fall, to fall down and not see that small light which kept me going, that small root sticking out which I grip rather tight, deadly afraid to let it go and be swallowed. Swallowed? By what? By failure, that after all these years and all those endless contests, medals and everything which would lead me here. I even felt different, I could feel myself inhale the air.
It was different. All I had to do was exhale the fear, not the homesick for that home, for my parents and inhale something which would make me homesick for this, for this home, for these yellow stripy walls, for that wooden door, the gray mat which I now sat on and for the rest of the house which I had not seen, but was brightly shown on the memories of tomorrow.
I had to believe, I had to realize, and I had to celebrate. I was here.
I was paying half the rent.
I was getting a job.
Above that…
I had the billions of dreams, like doors, now I was standing in front of them. It was as if today was my lucky day, my first step only I was sure that there would be no hard falls, no broken bones, scars like the ones once grasped. The painful ones now in the past, soon to be forgotten, soon to slowly fade and to be remembered with a uneasy laugh and morphing into a soft, easy laugh leading to a smile, to be a reminder. That I did it.
It was like a treasure box at some time, buried once, forgotten twice, which I kept unlocked, throwing impossible wishes under a lock of fate, until I could open them, afraid that I’d let them slip away from me if I’d open them, yell out my dreams, the possibilities I desired to have.
And now, the treasure chest blasted open, throwing the dreams straightly at me, going past me, no, going inside me, going deeper, filling me with golden hope. They kept running threw my head, as if they were a long forgotten friend.
He was telling me things I was bound to fight for, but leaving them there, as if fighting without the target but knowing the great reward, not knowing the amount of money, but knowing that there was going to be loads of it, allowing me to dive in it, let it hold me down to the bottom where the past was the sky. Unreachable and long gone.
Now the imaginary friend, which I considered to be my fantasy, which I believed very deep down, he, my sweet friend, was real. Now he was more than real, we were having a chat and he was telling me about the things, the thoughts I once shared with him. Now he was leaving me to decided what to choose out of that list, of what I really desired. He was more than real. He smelled nice, he smelled new, the smell I waited so long. The smell which the house smelt. I inhaled, exhaling slowly.
Home.
I was home.
Maybe I mouthed those words, maybe I spoke them aloud, maybe I shouted them, maybe I ran out onto the street, took my sweater and my shirt off, threw off the sweater into some unknown direction, not caring and I waved my shirt around like a flag. Who cares that it was white? Yes, I gave up, my dreams won over me and they brought me here. Fate made-out with consciousness. I guess I said that aloud simple, boring four letter word because Kayleen looked at me amazed, dazzled, ok, freaked out. But then it was a weird action, it really was, but then I meant it. I really did. But in the end after a short struggle, and watching me with that ear to ear happy grin, she smiled. Kayleen tilted her head sideways, the smile not coming off any time soon. Ever.
I was home.
Chapter 4
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