Change

It's new, it's exciting, it's wrong.
It's that last one that I ignore because its not really wrong its just remembering the past.
And sometimes, this can be a killer..... this time.... I think not.
It's merely a continuation.
It made me laugh today, on the inside, that one hour equalled over 11 months.
But despite a raw throat and the need of a chapstick and a glass of water, I can honestly say that today was one of the best days I've had in ages.
That change I foresaw.... well, it's beginning, and its torrential.

5 minutes

Memories That Won't Get Out Of My Head

Memories plague me recently, and I am not entirely sure why, though they are not pleasant to recall......

when I was in primary school, there was a girl in the year below me called Amelia. I forget her last name. All I remember is that she had dark shiny hair. She was in the year 3/4 class with my friends, while I was in the 4/5 class down the hall. We were in the playground. All I remember saying was 'you're name is Amelia, isn't it?', and she kept either denying it or saying 'maybe'. At lunchtime, her brother, a year 7, came up to me and had a go at me. At 130 cm tall, a boy over 160 cm tall with a larger build really scared me. It was because I was so intimidated that when he demanded to know what I had said to her, all I said was 'I don't remember'.
I never spoke to her again, or him for that matter. ever since then, and possibly before, people older than me have intimidated me - its why I never really associated with the years above me, even though my previous school encouraged inter-year mingling, hence the mixed classes.

When I was in reception, there was this boy in the other class, called Ashley. He had a friend called Dylan. Neither of these boys gave the impression of someone you want to annoy. Dylan left shortly after an incident, I think. He just, disappeared. He came back later in my time there though. However, before this, I got my first taste of the terror others can cause. I was walking to the oval, and I came to the crossing of the two paths: on the right was a small flight of sandstone steps, on the right the path headed uphill to the pine forest. For no reason whatsoever, the two of them ran up to me and trapped me. Dylan held my hands behind my back where it weakened me, and Ashley put his hand over my mouth and nose, smothering me. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move. Once I started crying and trying to scream- I was only about 5- laughed, let go, and sprinted off, leaving me gasping for air at the intersection. I hated them after that, I was terrified of them.
As it happened, Ashley was kept back a year or so, and ended up in my brother’s class, who, of course, made friends with him. I never forgot that incident and refused to acknowledge them when he came over or called.

A few years later, we were reminded, again, not to play around the after school care room and the rails by it. We were sitting on the benches near it, during PE catching our breath after running. Dylan was back by then. He was spinning on the railing, climbing on it, being silly. It had been raining, and things were slippery. Concrete levels kept these railings in place, and they were covered in moss in some areas. He slipped, and fell, splitting his skull open on one of the corners of the concrete. There was blood pouring down the back of his head, he went to hospital, I think.
I didn't see him after that - I left the school not long after, and made an extra effort to avoid interacting with him, though I do remember mentioning to my best friend that I wasn't sad he got hurt - no one knew about what they did to me in reception.

There was a girl. We had this love-hate relationship from preschool. She was my friend one time, and terrible the next. She had anger problems, and the only way she knew how to deal with it was by unleashing it on others. She was a chronic liar, too. I think that’s was to fit in, though: the second of four children, she was always trying to be a part of my group of friends, even if she wasn't wanted. She told me, once, that her mum hit her. I didn't believe her because of all the other things she'd done previously, but I always wonder what would have happened if she was telling the truth, and she was calling for help, and I brushed her off with a 'yeah right, you're mum's nice', if things would have been different. It may have lead to me graduating from my primary school rather than fleeing it after the worst fight I had ever had, with nobody to back me up.

I believe that experiences make us who we are - and these still never leave me, to this day. I think about what I would have said if Amelia's brother hadn't scared me so much, though, I will never know why the boys tried to suffocate me.
Because of my primary school, I am who I am. I always mean to go back there one day, and look around, see if it is still the same, and if they had taken the time capsule out yet, or if the tree house was still there, in the pine tree, complete with burned out hole in the floor.

Would things have changed the future? Probably. But who I am now.... I hate to think who I would be without the experiences that defined me.

1 hour

Formation of changes

(if you are unsure about the references, please read The Room and Outside before reading this)

The room returns as she opens her eyes. However, this time, she is alone, and the furniture has changed. It is the same room as last time, but the air is different about it. It is no longer distraught, stressed. It is calm, quiet, and there are clean linen curtains hanging either side of the windowless windows. The tattered remains are nowhere to be seen, and neither is the dark mahogany table, nor that rose. She notices there are shoes on her feet this time, and her skin is not dirty. She is clean. She can see the view through the windows, the grassy meadows are still there, but they change into a wetland not far from the Room. None of what she can see is threatening, and she can hear the birds and frogs from the wetland.
The rickety old door opens and there he is. In her mind, it is as though someone just let off a firecracker, exploding light and joy through her entire being.
However, he is only half-there: a translucent image of the person that she sees in her mind so often. Then, he is gone, leaving nothing but an open door and a warm breeze.
The scent of jasmine wafts into the room, mixed with moss and the smell of decaying wood. It is this last smell that has her on her guard. She knows who stands beyond the doorway, she knows that She will enter eventually, and it will take all her strength to keep Her at bay. Sure enough, Jasmine slinks into the room, and the light outside changes, darkens. Annabell joins her, her dress now a violent red hue. Jasmine absorbs dark colours, the purples and midnight blues, and black. She is the most alluring of the three, with straight black hair and lips painted purple. Her skin is whiter than the linen curtains and her dress is torn in all the right places to imply her seductive power. She is the most dangerous, and she knows it.
The girl looks between the two, planting her feet, stubborn as always: she knows why they are here and she believes they are wasting their time with warnings and ultimatums.
'You know what happened last time,' Annabell hisses, the venom in her words stinging the girl like hot needles.
'And you know that this won't work,' Jasmine adds in a whispery voice that would be comical to the outsider when compared with the body that possesses it, ‘you will only ruin what you have, what makes this room so calm and .... clean.... and then you will be lonely and hurt and living under my power, not your own anymore.'
she grins at this last point; looking as though she is baring sharp fangs rather than smiling- it's been a long time since jasmine was the strongest of the trio, and she misses it, hates being kept in a glass bottle, always pounding at the thick glass to get out.
20 minutes.
There is a change in the air surrounding them, electricity standing their hair upright. Jasmine blinks, the malicious grin disappearing within an instant as the sky outside morphs from blue to black, grey clouds rolling around slowly, lugging with them the threat of a thunderstorm. Annabell's eyes widen in panic briefly, spinning to look out the window. She jumps as the crack of static electricity and yelps in pain and anger as it zaps the tips of her fingers. They whirl around to face the girl again, whose dress is billowing about her. A foot shorter than Annabell, she makes an imposing figure with her steady, calm stance, unphased by the unusual meteorological phenomenon. Annabell's eyes widen further as small sparks jump off the girl, hitting anything within two feet of her body. Jasmines eyes, on the other hand, narrow at this sight. She stares at the girl as the arcs of electricity lengthen, 'so, it seems that the baby is finally growing up'.
'Oh, you have no idea.' the girl scowls, calling over the wind, 'I know what you are. And I know that it is MY fear, or anger, that creates your power. You have no power over me anymore. I know what I want and I know where I stand. You are lost beyond belief. Now return him to me- let me have my peace. If I fall, I fall. But I will be falling from euphoria. And it is that which I will risk it for. Leave me be. Let me live or so help me god I will use this on you'.

Jasmine screams, and the girl drops to the floor clutching her ears. Annabell laughs at her pain and begins advancing toward her. She stops when the air around the girl crackles and a burst of energy hits her, sending her flying across the room to the wall by the door. Jasmine, ever smarter, takes no action other than to move swiftly from the room, Annabell scrambling up and out behind her. The door slams and the girl grins - the door is now rounded at the top, and blue with a bronze handle. The clouds recede and the sun returns to the land outside the room.
There is a knock at the door, and a muffled voice demanding to be let in. the girl grins: the others kept their word. She unlocks the door and flies into his arms, knocking him backward with the unexpectedness of her movement. He laughs and tells her to calm down, patting her on
the head gently until she loosens her grip on his torso. She grins up at him and kisses his chest, laughing when he jumps from the accidental electric shock she just gave him. Taking him by the hand, she shows him inside, in doing so, the entire room changes before their eyes into a colourful living room and kitchen. 'This place has spent a long time trying to become a real home. I think you just showed it how.'

1 hour 20 minutes

My Slice of Nostalgia

I did a very rare thing today.

It is such unbelievable beautiful weather outside today, despite it being a tad on the chilly side, so I thought I would take full advantage of this, and actually spend the afternoon outside. I think this is indeed a fair trade as I realised the other day that it had been two weeks since I had set foot in my own back yard. Now that is pathetic. The reason I did not want to move house in the first place was that we would lose the beautiful back yard we have. The block of land is about half an acre, most of which is over-grown garden.

When I was younger, after the Saturday morning cartoons were over at 9am, my parents would tell us to get dressed, put our gumboots or sneakers on, and come out to the garden with them. This, of course, translated to 'we need some cheap labour and you, dear children, are now old enough to safely use secateurs'. it was always warm in the sun, and showing us all what we were going to be doing, was often a case of 'here is three different jobs- fight amongst yourselves for the one you want, then go to the parent doing it to show you what to do'. About mid-morning, after some serious rose pruning, weeding and raking, mum would come out with a tray full of cups of tea and biscuits. Then, we would all sit on the windowsills or garden walls, eat our bikkies, and drink our tea in the sun. It was fabulous. Of course, by about lunchtime the trio had had enough of gardening and went to do other things.

But the weather was so reminiscent of those days that I’ve actually told dad that I want us to have a working bee on the garden and house to get it back to what it was when we had hired help (though this part I neglected to tell him).

So, today, I decided I would be kind to my darling Gus and do some weeding, allowing him and Rani to frolic in the wonderland that is my garden (though she was less excited at the prospect than Gus, who shot out of the gate like a firecracker).

Well, the garden is certainly looking a lot neater, and there aren't Sour Sobs all over the place. Gus got 3 hours in the garden, and I got my slice of nostalgia, so I am intensely satisfied with today. Now, to finish a foot of the scarf I am knitting and today is perfect.



~~

Oh, in other news, turns out that I need glasses..... again.....
I’m a little long-sighted so my eye muscles work harder than most peoples to focus on things like books and computer screens etc. the ladies at the pharmacy were really jealous because the frames I got rarely suit people, and they’re French, so mum loves them. Haha.
It is a bit of sad irony though, really, that I can put on so many pairs of glasses and they look great, but clothes are a freaking nightmare.

I'm not afraid any more. I'm not scared of the future. It's full of hope. And study. It's full of challenges and laughs and road trips and tears and clubbing and university and friends and love. So do your worst, you cannot hurt me Iago. Nor can anyone else..

From Shakespeare to Reality

It's almost comical, to read this SparkNnotes booklet on Othello.
My English exam is tomorrow, you see, and I'm a little worried. nevertheless, revision is in order, hence the reading.

And as I read, I realise that there are people in Shakespeare plays that I see in the personalities around me. I guess its what makes his plays so fantastic, as well as his use of the English language.

There's definitely an Iago. And a Desdemona.

And I am sure that if I were to review Hamlet and Romeo & Juliet and Much Ado About Nothing, I'd find a good deal more.

But its Iago that makes me laugh.

So Iago has a new name.

Let us see if Iago changes or retains the fate that the real one incurred upon himself..........

my one wet blanket.

Uplifting, but at the same time, depressing.
I thought that these things were meant to make you excited, happy?
Well, in many respects, it has.
The problem is that one fact dampens everything. My one wet blanket.
It is like...... a victory, knowing you were right the whole time for feeling like this, but at the same time knowing why you denied it to everyone, and yourself, for so long.

I sound somewhat like hamlet, at this point in time: do I wait and the events will unfold before me and I allow the opportunity to appear, or to I make it happen myself?
In my heart of hearts, I know that I must let it go completely. But I cannot, or will not. You pick one; it does not matter, really.
So, in lieu of this, the right way to go is to wait, even though my natural inclination is to run forward and take control with both hands and any other limbs I can wrap around it.

I think it is low self-esteem. Or me not knowing how to talk to people of a certain age and or calibre. But there are some people that I think, in an admiring kind of way, are just so much higher above me, and that I want to be up there with them.
They are the role model, the cool kid that you think everyone wants to be, or be with, even though they are probably not. From the outside, they are perfect. From the inside, they are far from it, but you do not care.

And it could all go hopelessly pear-shaped and backwards and leave you destroyed, but there is that little flicker of hope: ever present and getting brighter that it might come to fruit.

But dreams only present the opportunity to chase them few times in your lifetime.
And now, I wonder if this is one of them.

20 minutes, thought this has no time meaning.
He has no time meaning.

Giggle Me Timbers

It’s refreshing to have an afternoon to one’s self, free of stress or anxiety of any kind. In fact, I will admit I had to have a very clichéd moment in the middle of my lounge room wearing half the clothes I was wearing when I got home. Although having said that before you go thinking I was in my undies - I wasn't: I did the marvellously clever thing of wearing thermal thingies to my exam today to keep my tush warm since yesterdays was spend freezing it off.
so, sure enough, all I needed was the power music to complete the moment of me standing there, feet planted strongly apart, hands raised to the sky, elbows locked, with that rather alarming victory cry coming from my lips.
Though I cut that last part short because I know that the neighbours several doors down can hear noise if its loud enough, and I may have sounded like I was being assaulted in some way.
still, I was bouncing around the house singing for a good 10 minutes before settling down to catch up on Ghost Whisperer and Grey's, both of which have now finished, leafing me at a loss for what I’m going to watch and wondering if TV shows are only aired 1 season/year?
So, 3 hours of TV later, my art book is well on its way and I am actually feeling like I have no more exams even though I still have three to go.
The fact that some people only have two or three exams deeply irritates me, probably because I have five and they love to remind me that they have less than me.
But even despite this, that's life, if you can’t change it, you deal with it, don’t complain, so this is what I shall (not?) do.
But whatever, I’m too bouncy and relaxed to worry about much at the moment. Life is looking like spring soon, and everything is green and the rain is gorgeous especially when the sun shines too.
Life is good and I’m okay.

25 minutes

one more day, again, defence.

The count-down has arrived at one day.
I don't even know why I'm stressing about these so much - they're not finals, after all. I think it’s because for several subjects, as I read through past exam papers, I realise that I can only answer, to some effectiveness, about 3/4 of the paper, if that, causing a major freak out, especially for legal studies, where everything is new and there is so much information to retain that’s it falls out my ear if I lay my head down flat.

O.o

fantastic.

-_-

I don't want to write about woe is me for the fact that I no longer have a boyfriend, I deal with this in my own mind since a little voice in my head is telling me that if I write about it on here, someone will write many a nasty thing about how I don’t deserve happiness because I’m such a horrible bitch, or something along those lines, which is totally not true.
But having said that, it IS draining, to deal with this heightened emotion and cause sleep-deprivation right when I need LOTS of sleep.
But I know I’m better off without him, so it’s like a bittersweet ending.

It’s poured outside recently, non-stop for a multitude of days, as those that live here are well aware. I got to regress to my pre-teen years and unblock a drain outside yesterday. Sounds horrid, doesn't it. Actually, it was therapeutic- there’s nothing more relaxing than being able to physically see the effects of an otherwise mundane job, such as vacuuming.

I’m trying to make this post as long as I can so that I don't have to go and sit back down at the dining table with my legal exam papers and freak out about how much I don't know, which would undoubtedly be helped by me actually doing that very thing. Ugh. Too much logic and stupidity in one thing.

~~~~

random mention of something that irritates me to no end, and I have complained about it before, so I apologise to those that are thinking 'ugh, not again'.
Distance.
I don't live in the mountains; I don't live hours from the city. I don't even live 30 mins from the city! The temperature change is about 5 degrees because of elevation vs. the Adelaide plains. I live 27km from the inner city.
And yet, I constantly get mentions about how dreadfully far away I live and how cold it must get 'up here' and how inconvenient it is having to go to town to go to school and go out at night.
news flash: I’ve been dealing with that since I was nine years old, it’s nothing new and it sure as hell isn’t for the people that mention it, and yet, it’s as though it’s a little needle to put in my side every time I talk to them. Thank you ever so for that. Just what I need: to have a stupid insult hurled discreetly at me every day' wooo, fun.
I happen to love where I live and although the bus route sucks, its life, I deal with it and I hate, absolutely hate, hearing other people lament about it. that’s my job, not theirs, and if I were to get really into this, it would be easier to say that my home is on a piece of land 3 times bigger than most people in the city, and that the wonderful produce the central market is famous for, is better and cheaper and from the same grower, at my local greengrocer. Not to mention I have cooler nights in the middle of summer as opposed to the plains where it stays above 30 24/7 sometimes.
So suck on that, mine wins.

30 mins

i don't really want to write right now, but the negative chi from the last post is bringing down my site.
so i will write later, after taking brother for a haircut. oh joyous fun that is.

Comment-turned-post

A too-long comment for the post 'Finally Stating the Truth' .....

The comment was: "

dpanayotopoulos said...

It's extremely hippocritical of you to state that others are self absorbed, when you have just written a whole page about yourself. Really, if you have something to say about someone, you should discuss it with them face to face, and not cower behind a computer screen and voice your opinions. Highly cowardice and hipporitical. But what else would we expect... "

My Response:

Well, Dimitri, I am very sorry that I have to point out a few hard truths to you, but I shall for both our benefit:

1. This is a web-log website, mine, in fact. Therefore, as long as it doesn't breach any laws, such as defamation, which I am always careful to do, I am free to write about what I wish.
Sometimes I write about life, sometimes school, sometimes myself. This is a place of self-discovery, which as lame as it sounds, is the honest truth. This is a diary - I don't have the patience to hand-write things - its faster and neater to type- and as such, I write as I think which may be good or bad, depending the day's events etc (see the Disclosure in the side bar).

2. I fear that you have taken this post and analysed it rather thoroughly for the past three weeks, or it has taken you that long to set up an account. on this particular thing, i actually need to say thank you for actually setting one up so that i know its you rather than an anonymous assault on my eyes.

3. This is possibly the most important point on here, and ironically, I am certain it is the one you will like the least. A note on a simple observation, if I may...
First of all, I did say it to your face, which is why you got all bitchy and vindictive in the first place. On that same line of thought, you have not once since the original post, a few weeks ago, spoken to me about anything whatsoever - which, by my reasoning, and yours, actually makes you the hypocrite since as you and others have pointed out, you are very upset that I didnt voice my opinion to you, even though I did, but you are happy to cry foul to everyone but me because I told you off. But hey, whatever.

After this, I will not be responding to any form of comment you try towards me, since this whole thing is not monumental, more of a non-event, and I'm tired of dealing with your crap. You live your way, and I'll live mine, but I ask you politely not to expect sympathy from me if you are going to change a story to get that very thing.

Oh, and to Meg, I am not going to lose all my friends over this petty thing, merely those that arent really my friends and havent been for a few years now, so please think about that before you make another dramatic comment.

Today...

Today i quote a valedictorian, Becca, from Grey's Anatomy, who made me cry.

"Today's the day my life begins. Today I become a citizen of the world. Today I become a grown up. Today I become accountable to someone other than myself and my parents. Accountable for more than my grades. Today, I become accountable to the world. To the future. To all the possibilities that life has to offer. Starting today, my job is to show up wide eyed and willing and ready. For what, I don't know. For anything. For everything. To take on life. To take on love. To take on the responsibility and possibility. Today, my friends, our lives begin. And, I for one can't wait."

this episode made me cry on more than four different occasions and was full of beautiful quotes
and so i share it here.

happy happy happy......

Ah I love catching up with people I haven't seen for ages.
Granted, it may present a certain degree of awkwardness depending on length of time spent apart, but it's easily overcome over breakfast, ala today. I haven't talked that much in 2 hours all year, I swear.
Fantastic :)
Hopefully this shall become a regular occurrence once again, and will mean new friends and such.
Woot for the future :)

nothing worth titling

it's 11.01 on saturday night.
ordinarily i'd rather be out socialising. now, i', loving the fact im sitting in bed chatting, tummy rumbling, thinking about brekkie tomorrow, hating that i feel so fat.
ugh, the pressures of not being able to see ur feet if you stand a certain way, with your eyes shut. i think my problem is just lack of exercise. hell, if i went for a 5km walk every day i reckon i'd be able to look like i used to within a coupla weeks.... worth a try? maybe. i'll test it out and let you know.
ugh, im too tired to post and my leg is aching again, if im really super duper lucky its growing pain. though this is hughly unlikely, but a girl can dream..........

Unexpected Family Love

I write a rare post today, about my brother.
Sure, I regularly post with extraordinary frustration over that same kid, but this time it's different.

It started with yesterday. Last day of school. It was 3.30 and everyone was racing to see who could get out of school first. Not me, I was already packed and trying desperately to fit my jumper into my bag. Wasn't going to happen, so I decided instead to do the sensible thing and put it on under my blazer. My hand got caught in it, and then gave way, hitting me in the ear. It didn’t even hurt. Didn’t matter. The tears rushed forwards and I couldn’t stop them. I felt so stupid for it, but I was so so tired, I was crying for that. I couldn’t breathe properly. Hyperventilation. Needed a hug, which He gave freely, having just witnessed what was no doubt a rather strange event to those other than me. Apology. He walked me to the front of the school, even though he was leaving via the back. That’s the kind of guy he is, and I love him for that. But this isn’t about Him.

Walking to the front gates, saw brother, whose locker is around the corner from mine. Saw that I’d been crying and asked if I was ok, what happened. Explained, then left.

Mum finally arrived to pick us up but my bag was too heavy to sling up onto my back. called out something about they don't appreciate how heavy it is in response to their jokes about my slow speed as I trundled, Igor-style, the 25 metres to the open car boot. Surprisingly, instead of him jumping in the car and waiting as my sister did, he came back, still wearing his bag, picked up mine and carried that on his shoulder too.
While this seems just like an ordinary gentlemanly thing to do, for him, that's incredible.

Then, after sitting in a hot bubble bath for an hour, reading (fun fact- my puppy is afraid of green bath salts for no reason whatsoever), I emerged in fluffy pj's to make dinner. He ventured forth from the Xbox and asked me if I wanted a hug. This kid used to be a little solid mass. Now he’s 6ft-something and I can wrap my arms around him so that my hands touch the opposite arm past the elbow. In short- a beanpole.
He wasn't loud or obnoxious despite having fizzy drink after school (I swear, you mix my siblings with sugar and they regress to the age of three)

Then, this morning, he comes out and sees that I let our sister have a whole Danish (they’re not big and there was only 2) and commented that we were meant to cut them into three to make it fair. I told him to eat the other one, at which point he offered me half. Sharing is not a frequent thing between us. It brought me to write this. He’s not been loud or obnoxious yet, though this could be because he's been on the Xbox all day so far.

I know this is just a list of him being nice. But I don’t care. I make tributes to everyone else I’m feeling grateful towards so I think I should for him since it is such a rare thing for him to be not actively trying to irritate me to the point of seriously considering places to dump his body.
He’s loud, annoying, childish and rude. He bigger and stronger than me and knows how to push my buttons. But, as he gets older, I see the man he's becoming and I am intensely proud of him for it. I don't often openly display my affection for him because it’s girly and boys shouldn’t do that, or so he says, as well as reminding us that he wants nothing to do with us after he moves out. Sooo not gonna happen.

I made myself a promise that when I move out, or any of us do, for that matter, I will catch up with them at least once a week. I love my family - despite our faults, my mother’s passion-turned-fiery-temper, my father's constant work, my sister's snobbery and my brother's loud noises, I love them all and I wouldn't trade them in for the whole world.

40 minutes

Remember The Cliché

Remember the time when nothing mattered?
You did what you wanted, and it was okay?
Do you remember the time when it was warm, never cold.
Do you remember the cold?
You had no dignity once,
Born as animals are,
Conditioned to be human.
You would take your clothes off in the middle of winter,
And run around the courtyard with your clothes off.
You were small enough that you needed all four limbs
To clamber over a small garden divider.
You grew, you learned that daddy knew everything,
That all he knew came from the shabby green book on the top shelf.
You went to school, learned to read, write, and count.
You learnt to fight with people not of family,
You developed friendships,
Played games,
Laughed and had fun.
You were called the fat kid,
Or the one that was used as a joke.
You were the fighter, and the first to leave.
You were the kid who couldn’t use long division
But was nice to the younger kids.
You were the one that was always at the side bench, painting
And danced to Avril Lavigne.
You wrote your way into a scholarship
And were the pride of your parents.
You sat, enthralled, as dad told tales of his policeman days
And kissed your first boy at the age of thirteen.
You learnt rejection, and insecurity.
That what others thought, mattered.
You learned to run, faster than you ever have before.
You won medals for speed and leadership
Praise for your writings.
You hit top ten, entered a new stage of life,
Grew up, broke up.
You experienced first-ever exams,
And horror of failing dreams.
Your feelings hardened, developed armour
The pressure on you grew,
'The most important year of your life'
The stress builds, is dissipated by laughs.
You grow up, again.
You realise you are still growing, and don't take 'Shorty' as a name.
It is not so much about physically growing and developing now,
It is about growing and learning emotionally,
About becoming who you are supposed to be.
So remember the cliché,
For that is where you came from,
When life was carefree and happy,
And you will reach there again.

40 minutes