Rats, Roses And Paper Bones

CHAPTER 17: a writing tale

I loved writing, I cherished scribbling ideas on paper. In fact, I enjoyed it. I couldn't really project my opinions and feelings verbally, so I computed them down passively, through writing.

To be honest, I felt really miserable at this point, courtesy of my dad. Its been a week since my dad's tantrum and I had just resumed school yesterday. Mum had dropped me off.

"You don't need to worry about your dad dear, you know how he is, it's almost impossible for anyone to impress him, so why bother yourself anyway, you would just be unnecessarily stressing yourself." She had said to me in the car as she drove me to school.

"Do you also believe that I'm a dissapointment mum?" I looked across to her and asked. I was in the passenger seat in front.

She sighed.
"Of course not, no child is a dissapointment dear"

"But you believe me, right mum?"

"Of course, my love, why wouldnt i believe you?"

My eyes softened and my lips creased in a slight smile.

"You're saying that because you're my mom," I said.

"No dear, but it's because I'm your mom that I believe you. I gave birth to you and raised you myself so i know the things you can and can not do, that is, unless you dont tell me the truth"

"You know I'll always tell you the truth, mom"

She smiled.
"I'm happy to hear that. Please don't ever keep anything from me, you hear?"

I sighed.
"Yes, mom,"

"Cheer up doyin, and make me proud". she said and faced the road.

My mom always had to turn most of our conversations into sermons. Classic mom.

She was right though. There was nothing i could ever do to get my dad's approval.

But it wasn't just my dad, everywhere I went, I felt like I was just a shadow seen by no one,known by no one ,invisible to say the least, only to be visible when it was time to dissapoint.

I felt miserable, so I did the usual. I wrote down a poem, depicting my feelings.

No one is perfect
Yet I am condemned for deviating
From perfection.
Everyone sees the brightness of the sun and beauty of the stars.
Yet few acknowledge the radiance of
the moon that surpasses them all.
Is perfection an hallucination?
Or am I just trapped in this world of
Fantasy?

"Hey, what are you doing?". Michael said, approaching me.
I closed up my notepad, preventing him from seeing my work.
"Hey, Michael, you're back!" I said, feigning excitement.
"Why are you here?"

"So this is where you've been". He said, sitting beside me.

Was he looking for me? Why?

As he sat on the floor, his trouser exposed his lower leg, revealing some straps of metal wrapping around his leg. My mind went back to some things I heard from my classmates about him having "weak" bones. That's why he couldn't play football or perform any track field events.

I got immediately curious on seeing it and my curiousity beckoned on me to ask questions but I looked away hastily and pretended I saw nothing because I didn't want to put him on the spot.

"I just came back today, I searched everywhere for you". He said, not knowing what was going through my mind.

Wait, he was really looking for me? I was right. He was a stalker. He wasn't even hiding it now.