Welcome to The New Classic, where the past and the present merge, to form a new future.
Once that no one can see coming...
Join Angelo, Vanessa and the rest of the gang three and a half long years after that fateful night.
Lo kept count. V didn't...
Moodlist Pray You Cath Me - Beyoncé Build Me Up - Cleo Sol On You - The Hics Killing Me Softly With His Song - The Fugees Fallin' - Alicia Keys He Won't Go - Adele Talk A Good Game - Kelly Rowland featuring Kevin Cossom I Want You Around - Snoh Aalegra
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They say the fact most babies say 'Da-Da' first, stems from the fact that they are yet to see their mother and themselves as anything other than one being.
Their developing minds only understood themselves and their mother as being one and the same, with fused identities.
And I found that to be somewhat true.
Of course, the memories of my infancy weren't ones available for recollection in adulthood.
But my childhood was defined by that sense of shared identity.
The maternal bond was the most carefully spun yarn there was. Even after the umbilical cord was cut, the fibres that made up that biological connection remained, taking on a metaphysical quality. It was something I'd gotten to witness with Malia and her children, and it was the most awe-inspiring phenomenon.
I would go on to wonder, for years, when exactly that feeling faded away for good. What was the moment that as a little girl, I was able to finally see myself as a separate being, distinct from my mother?
The answer found me late into the night, one day.
There was so much about the world around me that escaped my perception as a seven year old. It wouldn't be until much later that I understood why my mom insisted I didn't eat other people's food, or why her frown got just a little deeper when she opened yet another letter with big, red lettering across the front.
But I felt everything.
The anxiety that lined her stomach. The resentment that clung to her fingertips. It all felt so visceral, as if I was experiencing the emotions too. She never voiced how she was feeling, but somehow, I just knew. Her feelings took up so much space, it felt like they were stealing my air. My chest would get all tight, and the words wouldn't come.
There was hardly any space between the two of us for me.
People always thought I was painfully shy little girl, but that wasn't the truth. In reality, I constantly felt like I had to choose between interacting with the world around me, and keeping the one inside me the right way up.
I was seven. I could only do one thing at a time.
And so when she was at her lowest, I was at my quietest. Somehow I knew, that the last thing she needed while she was was sitting on the floor, trying to keep herself from imploding, was me going on and on about the adventures of the Cartoon Network's ensemble cast.
She didn't need to hear my sniffles either. Or see my bottom lip trembling.
No, I'd seen her cry enough times to know that tears didn't change anything.
