Once every now and then I want to hurl my cherished jar of marbles at the mirror in front of me, to hear the crash of glass, the marbles hitting the floor and bouncing with such ferocity.
These pent up emotions…sometimes its sadness, like I’ve lost something dear. Sometimes anger, because of my stupid fear.
The past couple of days I’ve been in a tepid state, trying to find reasons for my misery. I’ve also being reminiscing and it seems that I have lost myself along the way. The journey, remember? I’d have my tuck shop stops and you’d have yours. They were never the same but at least we knew we were heading in the same direction. That was what made it comfortable and secure, our childhood game.
Now everything’s blurry, like the time you opened the bottle of pepper, sneezed and then the whole thing got into my eyes.
I still think of that night you left me, at the hospital. You told me to live my life, in a tone you always used when you told me something of utmost importance, the tone I’ve come to respect over the years. I hated you for saying that, the command, for making me venture into a world that I’ve never known. I hated you for weeks after that, mostly because you refused to talk to me. But with time things healed and it wasn’t so unbearable. Then life was a different chapter, a chapter I enjoyed for a few years. You were happy because I was happy and I was happy because you were. We are two odd creatures looking out for each other in a strange mangled sort of way.
Then came the time you left me, again, with a frightened embrace, a quick kiss and a few empty words. It wasn’t a proper goodbye because you lied. I was bitter for a while because it was the first time you lied to me. Then I began to realize that it was hard for you and tough because I wasn’t making it any easier. As always you were ever ready to forgive, tell me that you’ll always be there and then suddenly life went back to being normal. I’d miss you, you’d miss me but we’d both reminisce and wait for an opportunity when you’d be back here again.
Now things are slightly different, you’ve graduated, you’re moving to a place where I always wanted to live, Missy Independent, you used to call me. A dream that once was mine has become your reality. It hurts, because things are not the same. It hurts, because I’m envious. It hurts, because we are apart, two twenty-odd-year-old’s separated by distance with a lifetime of memories.
I know you’re not coming back, I hear it in your voice every time you speak to me. I’m learning to deal with that and hopefully someday I’ll join you and live out my independent dreams but for the moment I choose to battle my inner demons amidst familiar territory.
Until we meet again Gypsy Boy, a 100 hugs.
