ik schrijf al een lange tijd, alleen heb ik nooit iets op Girlscene gezet aangezien ik alleen maar in het Engels schrijf. Ik ben niet zo goed in het schrijven van Nederlandse teksten en ik wist niet of er wel mensen zouden zijn die geïnteresseerd waren in een Engels verhaal.
Maar ik heb gevraagd in het “Let’s speak English” topic, en er waren mensen die mijn samenraapsels van woorden wel wilden lezen. Dus ik ben benieuwd of er nog meer mensen die het leuk vinden om mijn verhaal te volgen. Ik zal proberen elke 2/3 dagen een vervolg te schrijven, ik denk dat dat wel een goede tijd is
Thousands of stars are decorating the dark blue canvas of the sky, but I’m only filled with darkness. Putting my arms around my legs, moving my head like it’s stuck on my neck and accusing my body of creating the pain that is constantly inside of me. I’ve never been able to look in the mirror and realize that I was the one that caused all of my own weakness, I was only able to write it down on paper, throw it in the fire, and see the pages filled with broken words burn into nothing. I like disappearance, people who are leaving … Dark unfilled holes. Also the things humans are afraid of simply because those exact things are scarily unpredictable. If I could introduce myself other than writing these sentences on a keyboard and letting you read the words I come up with, I’d look you in the eyes, say my name while I’d grab your hand and I’d start the uncomfortable conversation with saying that I like to be unpredictable. You’d change the size of your eyes; make them at least twice as big. And as your mouth would hesitate to throw some useless “let’s try to fix this”- sentences into my face, I’d fake a smile that would let you put your teeth together and make your feet step backwards. And then I would not only shake your right hand but also your left, showing that the first sentence that my voice ever brought to your ears is true. And the only thing you’d do is stare.
Maybe I’m superficial, believing that I can already predict your actions and thoughts. But looking at the fact that at the same time Sensuanum made me an uncaring emotionless piece of nothing, nobody should even be worried about what I think. My opinion is irrelevant but I still say whatever I want, simply because I can’t stop talking. I remember myself being totally freaked out when I was younger, only because I sat next to someone who was deaf. I sat in the bus to school when this person sat down next to me and the only thing I tried to do the whole bus trip was getting some attention from the man. I joked, laughed, complimented him and for a moment I even thought about talking about the weather with this man. But nothing on his face even gave me a slight signal that he felt the need to interact with me. Later on I found out that the man was deaf and my mom’s cheeks went permanently red when I told her about the happening. It was probably because of the shame that was brought by the thought that her daughter had been talking to a deaf person for at least 20 minutes while the whole bus was able to hear the hopeless tries from her daughter, trying to get a little bit of attention from this deaf man. I only looked at her; I knew she was never going to understand my constant need to communicate with everything that was at that moment surrounding me, and I stopped caring about the fact that that was just the truth.
It took a while before my habit to care about every little thing my mother said, stopped. I was indescribably inspired by her, and when I look at it now I don’t even know why any more. She was just a woman, a mother. Just like any other mother. She cooked, she cleaned and she was always busy with things clearly more important than me. I never thought about the fact that she maybe didn’t care as much about me as I did about her. Even though she was always gone and always busy, I thought I was the most important thing in her life. Now I know that I wouldn’t have been hurt so much if I had put that thought out of my head. After all I think it has cost my mother so much effort to show me that what I thought was wrong. But the love I had for my mother was the only thing I held onto.