Caught betweeen a stone and a hard rock, she walks in circles seeking refuge. Her head was in chaos. There's so much she doesn't understand. No, take that back. She understands things - just that she doesn't understand how something SO simple takes alot to be understood by others; especially him. She doesn't think she's ultra smart - in fact, she still has a long way to go in that aspect and no doubt, it will not complete even at death. The only thing conclusive and certain in this world is death.
She dreads going "home". She thinks skeptically, the person who came up with "home sweet home" and "home is where the heart is" obviously had a rose tinted pair of glasses or perhaps her dark glasses on. She listens to the sounds of the neighbours getting ready for their evening. She imagines the mother in the kitchen, warming up her food, getting it ready for her husband and children. Smells of fresh soap wafted by. She inhales till her lungs feel as though it would burst, in the hopes of reliving a memory that was so long ago. Mother would always warn her that her father's on the way home and would make her take a shower to present herself, clean, to greet the bacon carrier. Shaking her head clear, she flits from one apartment block to another.
Is it difficult to prioritise? "I am too young to be parenting", she thinks. "Yet, I have to take the reigns. No one else would or could for that matter." For every 3 steps she takes forward, it ends with her taking 10 steps back. Contrary to most situations of being trapped in a corner, she feels trapped in the centre, with the corners pointing straight at her, with no way to dodge it. Damn if you do, damn if you don't. "I think it's called "checkmate" in chess?"
Trudging home, she hopes the newspaperman has been to collect his dues. She told him to call at 7.30pm today. Her stomach rumbles. Her resolve for diet melts away..."how am I going to lose weight at this rate?!!" "Is there anything that will go my way this year - AT ALL?!" "What about some ching ching ching....what about some bling bling bling...." she sings to herself.....
Petal P. Rose
She dreads going "home". She thinks skeptically, the person who came up with "home sweet home" and "home is where the heart is" obviously had a rose tinted pair of glasses or perhaps her dark glasses on. She listens to the sounds of the neighbours getting ready for their evening. She imagines the mother in the kitchen, warming up her food, getting it ready for her husband and children. Smells of fresh soap wafted by. She inhales till her lungs feel as though it would burst, in the hopes of reliving a memory that was so long ago. Mother would always warn her that her father's on the way home and would make her take a shower to present herself, clean, to greet the bacon carrier. Shaking her head clear, she flits from one apartment block to another.
Is it difficult to prioritise? "I am too young to be parenting", she thinks. "Yet, I have to take the reigns. No one else would or could for that matter." For every 3 steps she takes forward, it ends with her taking 10 steps back. Contrary to most situations of being trapped in a corner, she feels trapped in the centre, with the corners pointing straight at her, with no way to dodge it. Damn if you do, damn if you don't. "I think it's called "checkmate" in chess?"
Trudging home, she hopes the newspaperman has been to collect his dues. She told him to call at 7.30pm today. Her stomach rumbles. Her resolve for diet melts away..."how am I going to lose weight at this rate?!!" "Is there anything that will go my way this year - AT ALL?!" "What about some ching ching ching....what about some bling bling bling...." she sings to herself.....
Petal P. Rose
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