"The unknown is darkness and darkness is fear. You fear the unknown because what is seen in the dark cannot be easily seen in the light."
Just by a snap of her fingers and a tick from a magical ticking clock, Julian Hawk's life drastically changes b...
This may not count as one of the stages you face in the accurate lists of grief, anxiety or depression because it is obviously not included, but it is definitely one of the feelings you strongly experience when going through these obstacles.
No fresh haircut done by your favourite barber can heal this burdening feeling, like mine. No sped up pop music which is supposed to be 'uplifting' can lift your moping spirits up, like mine. And most importantly, no 'moving to a new country for school and your health' can change your personality interests or wellbeing for the greater good.
My driving father finds it hard to accept that I'm not a piece of clothing. I cannot be altered.
I'm not a flattened tire, I cannot be changed.
And neither am I a lie, a sentence, a word or a syllable that you could easily forget when removed or not memorized. I am a memory.
And so today, as we drive through the morally grey streets of Hammersmith in England, the first feeling I'll welcome into my emotions as I comfortably settle in my grief is feeling like shit. It is not a stage but a sincere feeling and that is why I shall welcome it with open arms.
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I despise showering, let alone shaving.
That total exercise is just a waste of water, energy and time. I mean, who even suggested such stuff? I barely grow thick, visible hairs on my long legs for anyone to see or chest hairs, whatsoever. My tiny black stubble is as fine as can be. The way it is. Then there's the showering, well... I just generally hate it.
My dad always joked that I chose the wrong genes and that I should've been a girl 'cause I look like one. As if the sperm gets to choose genes, how absurd.
"You were a mistake, son," he'd say with his rich masculine voice.
"Took your mother's genes instead of mine," then he'd cover it up with a playful chuckle. I know he meant what he said, I could feel it. I was a mistake. The ugly duckling among heavenly, blonde ducks and it was my fault that he felt that way. My two twin brothers, Jeremih and Jade would take the advantage at that instant to rub it in on my pale face.
Ugh.
It's not my fault we were born triplets and I look nothing like them. My black long hair that covered my right, black, thick, eyebrow and half of my small eye. Black irises, pale skin, tall. Terribly too tall. Average body weight, unlike their perfect bodies and rosy skins. Baby blue eyes and blonde haircuts. I still have crooked teeth for crying out loud! The only thing I inherited from him was his deep, rich voice. "Thank God for that," he smirked when my voice matured. I thank God for that too.
