What is this 3 days bullshit… can’t I just be texted/ text now…?
Her line of tarnished, slightly yellow teeth are spread in a smile across
Her creased, tanned face making her nose crinkle at the sides.
Her eyes squint, black beads staring out from
Under neatly, but not perfectly, arched eyebrows.
Her forehead stretches out to scraped-back deep, deep black hair.
A touch of pearls twinkle at the bottom of her exposed ears,
And proudly, beneath her face, the neck extends and twists.
She hugs a smiling child tightly, two faces squashed together,
One gap-toothed smile against a full-grown grin,
Both as blindly happy as each other, head to head,
Eye to eye, cheek to cheek- the merging
Of colours, sweet, innocent and warm.
“Why did you put that ugly picture of me up on your wall?”
“It’s not ugly, mãe*, it’s beautiful.”
So I realised why I keep myself so constantly busy to the point I think I might collapse with exhuastion…
Because even when I have that one hour to myself, to do nothing, I begin to think too much.
I begin to think too much about how I life is inevitably rolling towards a 9-5 office job with only 2 weeks holiday a year, how society dictates that you should be selfish and indeed you have to be selfish to even survive let alone to succeed, how this might be the last chances I have to have fun yet I’m not even sure of what having fun constitutes… how all brilliant and ‘classic’ literature seem to come to the same conclusion about life- our intangible, short-lived lives against a world that is so permanent, about how the system is created by us but not for us, about how we shouldn’t conform, yet we all end up doing so because there doesn’t seem to be an escape.
And the thoughts spiral on down- so I stop and create something else for me to do. Some are anethetised anyway to these thoughts, by cheap reality TV shows and attention money-grabbing adverts- but I just try to keep myself busy with activities.
First world problems. Yet, the ‘third world’ seem to want to badly to be us.
No. You’re not going to drink or go clubbing tonight because you feel too ill. You’ve copped out on loads of other commitments because you’re feeling too ill and now you’re thinking of going out. No.
But now everyone’s pre-drinking upstairs and everyone’s going out. You decide you have to and you get ready. You look in the mirror and feel good, you look hot. Ready to go out and be on the pull tonight. Everyone’s leaving to go to the bar, you follow behind them.
Outside it’s freezing. All you want is a hot chocolate, a movie and someone to snuggle with. You get to the bar and it’s heaving. People are Harry Potter characters, Bananas in pyjamas, animals, witches, wizards, dwarves, celebrities, popstars, Disney princesses and when you look round to find your friends all you see is a colourful blur. So you move on to the next bar and the same is true, but you were following your friends and now they’ve left you behind. You scan the room full of drunken, rainbow people, and begin to feel ill again.
Time to go home. Your friends are nowhere and strangers stare back at your unintentionally, worried featured face. And even though, in your room you’re surrounded by voices, drunken cries and laughter, you begin to feel quite lonely and the room is strangely too silent.