barefootmedstudent
We looked forward to those special occasions where new goods were acquired. Days where it was okay to be materialistic, to indulge in the world. They were treated with reverence by young and old. Only later did we learn that the grownups had entirely different reasons. Ah, the scent of Christmas. It has never left me.
We learned soon that we all wanted to be each other. We wanted dark skin and they wanted light. Years later, the term "no weave" became a sign of acceptance of their Africanness. We still dabble with each other's styles, but together we grew to accept our own uniqueness. That was one of my favourite experiences growing up in South Africa.
Splashes of colour on paper. Little girl fingers. Little girl hands. Little girl eyes. Glinting with promise - one day I can be famous for this. Or I will be a famous actor. Or humanitarian. Or doctor. And she carries on painting her future.
I remember having to sit at the front of the class, almost with my nose in the chalk, to see. Because I was too proud to wear my glasses. Or too vain, maybe. There is nothing worse than being a little girl and feel ugly, uncool. I would rather deal with the constant sneexing from the chalk dust.
They say having a photographic memory can be a curse. I would give so much to have my memory back. So what if you can't forget traumatic events? I am sentimental anyways and would never wish to forget, not ANYTHING. Sometimes I think I can feel myself becoming stupid. Must... remember... more...
He was rugged-looking and I didn't like him - not his demeanour, not his beliefs, and least of all his sideburns. They would become a symbol of everything that was unpleasant that I would never allow again.
And then there was light. How I wish that something could light up my mind, the way that that torch lit up those dusty hollows. How I need something to sweep away the dusty cobwebs, shine clarity upon my darkest recesses.
Funny how I've been watching "Bones" all day. So I think Sealy Booth. Hate how scaredthat show makes me. Although I like the adrenaline rush. And I like seeing how many episodes I can watch. As though I'm immunising myself. You cannot want to live in this century with constant fear.
In "The Kite Runner", theft is considered the ONLY sin. I like that. Harold Camping stole from a lot of people. Not only money, but faith. And sometimes I feel like university has been a thief to me. Stealing the person I once was.
A moment. A pause. That was all it took, and she knew the truth. You don't have to say anything to be a bad liar. That stall of they eyes. The catch in your throat. And they know.
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writing since 2011 · 13 entries · 12 days shown up
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