scribbles

I can honestly say that I live in a perfect world. If you asked anybody that lived here they would say the exact same thing. I don’t mean to sound big-headed or anything, but everyone here was always happy, sometimes we didn’t even know just how happy we were since we had never experienced sadness. We were all happy to be alive, loving life and glad to be where we were.
You must be wondering how we could be so perfect. The sarcasm and cynicism is probably already brewing in your mind. But this time you can’t question it, you can’t make fun of it, because it is what it is. Perfection.

Well then you ask what about the poor, the hungry and deprived? We had no poverty. Everyone had what they needed, because what was his was mine, and what was mine, his. We shared and helped each other through everything. There were no rich people with fancy parties and sleek cars, and there were no poor people, hungry and lonely.
There were no wars, because there were no countries. The world belonged to everyone. We were citizens of the Earth. We coexisted with not only the people of the world, but also the plants, the fish and the animals. There was no real difference, no real difference in life. Since we valued all lives equally no matter if they were animal plant or human, we cared for our environment and in turn it took care of us. And so words such as Global Warming and Ozone Depletion were distant funny sounding words that only people like you used.

Then you asked about racism. Well what about that. You talk about it like you know it so well. What are you talking about? We don’t know race or color or ethnicity. We just didn’t see it that way.
But then finally you asked, “Well what does your world look like?”

And sadly, my friend I cannot tell you, for all of the people here are blind

It’s Not You, Its Me
 

Once upon a time there lived a prince and a princess who were completely in love. But this isn’t like most fairytales, so they weren’t blonde haired, blue-eyed clichés – but real people with fading dyed hair, bitten nails and denim jeans.
”I’m sorry”, she said. And she rolled into her speech that she had practiced so many times before. It wasn’t that she didn’t love him, she did, it was just that she didn’t know it yet, and she wasn’t going to stick around longer to find out. He, on the other side of the room sat there and listened. They had warned him about her – how she could never stay in one place too long. He sighed and looked her, the soft falling hair, the smooth liquid skin and those lips. God, those lips! The lips that said everything, without making a sound, the lips that curved into that smile, the lips that pouted every time it didn’t get its way and the lips that he used to taste. How was he going to get over her? How could he? Just look at her
And then the words came, the words that seemed so unreal, like a badly rehearsed play, tumbling out of her mouth. He listened but he didn’t understand, it was like he wasn’t even there. Like he was watching from the other side. Conversations from before started flooding into his head, advice from friends, warning him about what he was getting himself into. And all along he had known that he was going to lose her, he had known it would have ended up like this. But that was the chance he was willing to take. He wanted to find out what it was like to hold her hand, to make her laugh and now that he did, it was worth it, even at the final moments.
”Here we go again.” she thought to herself. “I’m the bad guy; I’ve become the insensitive jerk again. What is up with that? In the movies, it’s always the guys, you know, the heartless bastards who cheat on their seemingly perfect innocent girlfriends. How did I end up the bad guy? I didn’t want it to end up like this; if I could, I’d write it out as a never ending fairytale romance. But that was not reality now was it? In reality, the prince got moody, the princess got frisky and the castle started to get old.”
”Promise we’ll always be friends?” she asked meekly. “Yeah right. Friends” he replied, his answer laced with sarcasm, which made her wince and bite her lip. Seeing her reaction he immediately regretted it. “You know why I did it right?” she asked to make sure. “Yeah, sure, I guess I understand”, and with that he stuffed his hands into his pockets, closed the door and rested his head against the cool surface of the door. On the other side the girl stood, stunned that it was all over. It felt weird and sad at the same time. He wasn’t hers anymore. Breathing deeply she leaned against the door for support.
After a few minutes, on both sides of the door, the floor was wet.

Happily ever after.

Knocking From the Inside

Night was fast approaching over the open savannah. The trees and hills surrounding it were draped in soft shadows except for one. A large baobab tree stood at the edge of the savannah bathed in the few strands of orange sunlight that had managed to trickle through the heavy clouds. I hurried my sister through the trees as softly as I could. We had to reach the baobab by nightfall or the legend would not hold true. And the tree was still a vague silhouette against the colored sky.
My sister, Kaela and I were refugees escaping civil war in our home country. Our home and family were all lost in the turmoil and we were forced to begin a journey to the neighboring country along with others from our village. But along the way my sister and I were separated from the group and we were lost. The vast sun colored savannah seemed to stretch on forever in all directions. It all looked the same. The first few days I panicked, How were we going to survive? We were lost with no food, water or shelter, alone in complete wilderness. On the second day we managed to find a small banana tree, thought the bananas were barely ripe, we tore off banana after banana eating greedily, with sweet fruit dripping down our chins.
The next few days carried on like this, we’d walk around in circles in hope to find our village people. Eventually we would sit down in the shade in exhaustion. We’d eat unripe bananas from the nearby trees and sip water from the drying lake. Our stomachs were full and our thirst was quenched but we still lived in constant fear and uneasiness. We’d sleep very little in fear of the wild animals that we could only hear but never see. Neither of us wanted to say it out loud but we knew that if we didn’t find our people soon we wouldn’t last much longer alone.
One hot sweltering afternoon, my sister and I lay down to rest after another one of our walks. We lay our hot cheeks against the cool red soil and tried to catch up on some badly needed sleep. After about ten minutes I have up my attempt to sleep, with the flies buzzing around my face and the hot afternoon sun hitting down on me, it was impossible to sleep. I sat up and shot a quick glance at my sister, she had galled asleep quite quickly but the occasional flutter of her dark eye lashes suggested that she was not in peaceful slumber. I waked around our new surroundings shaking off an army of red ants as I stepped through the thick sun-kissed grass. I scanned the horizon briefly in hope to see any sign of our people, but as always there was nothing. I have a quick glance once more, and then something caught my eye. Its reddish color stood our boldly against the yellow-brown of the savannah, my eyes widened as I realized that the red object I was looking at was a baobab tree! A flutter of excitement rose in my stomach, I had heard about these red baobabs from my grandmother. Red baobabs were sacred; inside them they supposedly held the passageway to paradise. And those who found such a tree could enter paradise by knocking on the trunk of the baobab three times. Excitedly I rushed over to my sister, walking her to tell her about my great discovery. She looked at me through sleepy disbelieving eyes but hurried along with me, letting me drag her by the hand through the scratchy grass blades.
|This was it” I thought. The end to our pain and suffering. The tree was like a gift from the gods in return for the family we had lost and the nightmare we were living through Just as the last few ribbons of color were fading away into the night sky we reached the red baobab. I held Kaela’s hand tightly and breathed deeply, knocking shakily on the tree three times. The red-brown tree slowly creaked open and we stepped inside incredulously but with out eyes closed.
We opened them only to find that we had been knocking from the inside.
                                                                                                                    

Tied up and knotted

I used to be very sure of myself. My life was under control and I was happy living it organized and predicted. I had no time of immature love stories, like the sort they have on television. Maybe that’s why I didn’t believe in you. To me, love was a superficial pastime that was meant for fools who believed in destiny and true devotion. Call me cynical, sarcastic….whatever, but that was me, and I liked my hair tied up and knotted.

Your face….it was hopeful yet growing with disappointment as each minute passed by as you stood outside in the pouring rain in front of my house. I di not let myself feel any empathy because that was what you wanted me to feel. I asked my mother to lie and conjure up excuses every time you called, because I didn’t want to hear your voice, in fear of what it might do to me. I stood by the window and mouthed words of discouragement so that you’d go away but still you did not listen. Your persistence…it scared me even more, but I wasn’t about to give in, I wasn’t going to let myself lose this war.

Yes war is how I saw it. You were trying to take away everything I had known and believed, you were snatching the ground beneath my feet. I was furious with my mother for giving in. She fell for your sappy chivalry by bring you that hot tea in the rain. I tried to figure you out; maybe you were doing this for charity or money or maybe as a dare prompted by a friend. I didn’t actually think your motive would be love. I looked harder into your eyes but each time I looked it felt as if I had been turned upside down. Every time I stared into them I lost more control and more of the group I stood on. I tried to replace that feeling of fear and uncertainty by anger and hatred, because that’s what I wanted to feel, especially towards you.

Hating you did not work because….because I had lost all control from the moment you looked up at me. I lost all control of my emotions and I stated feelings things I had never felt; or wanted to feel before. I started to hate myself for falling into your trap.

With more curiosity than strength I decided to talk to you. I wasn’t about to let you run my life and emotions forever. I was going to confront you and your silly infatuation and tell you toe leave me alone once and for all. But alas, all the confidence I had built up on the other side of the door, vanished as I saw you, the rain cascading down your face. Your hair, dishevelled and wet hung over your eyes, like a mask hiding your feelings. With a deep breath, I stepped into the late afternoon rain, my hair let down, flowing in loose waves.