thank you again…

September 19, 2007 at 10:07 pm (Uncategorized)

            “Where should I begin?”

I said this to Hobgoblin the other day when he was trying to help me. Even though I continued to assure him that everything was fine, yes – everything was fine, the truth was and still is — that nothing is fine.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me — all I know is that it’s becoming more difficult to focus on reading and school. I just think about too many things, and I sometimes I wonder why I just don’t give up. For a long time, I was able to separate my school life and my home life, but now the lines are blurring and I feel as though I don’t know myself at all. When I talk to my mom, I just want to cry. When I hear my brother’s sad voice, I want to do the same. I think it’s because I miss them. I miss the intricate circle that we had formed over the summer.  I miss pizza on Friday’s. I miss reading while my mom cooked dinner. I miss their infectious laughter. I miss my sister and our stupid jokes that only she and I understood. But mostly, I miss me. ***         

I remember standing outside, under a majestic bright blue sky that I just wanted to fall into and never come back, never put my feet back on the lowly ground. Hobgoblin asked me what I wanted to do, what I saw myself doing ten years from now. I knew the answer before he asked it. I saw myself in front of the classroom, with a piece of chalk in hand.

What do you want to do? He asked and I wouldn’t, I couldn’t – look him in the eyes; I find myself reluctant to look within the eyes of anyone and I’m not sure why. Perhaps, I don’t want them to see what’s there. I am afraid that I will scare them and then they would run far away and never return.

“I want to do something with people — I want to do something…” For some reason I couldn’t say what I wanted to do. I had it there, lying so close to my heart and yet I was unable to say it. I wanted to talk, but I found no words. But — I finally managed to say I wanted to teach. I knew he must have smiled then, though my eyes were plastered to the September sky. I could feel the cool wind against my cheek and I could hear the warm, resonant melody of the trees. As I stood there, I wished time and time again that I could write something in the sky.  

I said some things that I had been holding in for too long and I felt a lot better. My father no longer believed in me, but he did. Someone else believed. ***

Hobgoblin listened, and how nice it was – how nice it was — to have someone listen! Anyway, Thanks, Hobgoblin.