playground

i don’t really wanna get up. yeah, it’s not that early in the morning, i know there’s sunlight, but i don’t really wanna go to school. i guess as usual i’m having toasts and coffee milk for breakfast and so is my older brother… then, off to classes. the nights before are always a funny ritual: dad normally irons our uniform shirts and polishes our tiny black shoes–he never blackens his hands when he does that, it’s AMAZING. mom, on the other hand, checks if we’ve done our homework in the afternoon and goes buy our morning snacks. i always tell her to get me one of those chips that i like. NOOOOOOOO, here comes mom to wake me up. i’d better sink into my blankets and enjoy the scent of my body in peaceful darkness.

OK, i know i’m supposed to be doing this, but i didn’t really wanna get up, i don’t really wanna be here. what’s the point of standing in line here, anyways? are we an army or what? where are the bombs and the tanks? i just see blocks of apartments, a couple of soccer fields and an open sewer where the football always falls into during recess or gym class. for some reason i like to get the football when that happens. it feels as though i’m doing something prohibited and exciting: “what can I do, teachers, we gotta do it, we can’t afford to lose something taken from the institution’s property, can we? especially when that’s all we’ve got, no matter if it’s as old as the school founders themselves!”

At last we’re allowed to walk inside the building. not big deal, btw. just a couple of houses rustically arranged as to resemble an attempt of school. what the heck… i like my spot, this very spot, close to the window and close to my bff. his name is weird and he rocks! he’s got this gorgeous pale skin and dark, dark hair. reminds me of the darkness i find so tranquillizing. he’s like the other kids, though. he talks to them, he plays with them… he’s not afraid of them. but in spite of that, there always comes a time, everyday, when he goes back to his spot, next to mine, and caresses my ear.

recess now. he’s absent today and it kinda hurts… badly. everyone’s out here enjoying every single square meter of the playground, except for me. i’m sad and i wanna cry, but i shouldn’t, because everyone’s gonna come closer and ask me what’s going on and i won’t know the answer for that. everyone’s out here enjoying every single square meter of the playground, but i can’t stand the noise! i can’t stand their comings and goings as they scream all over the place! i wanna cry. my eyes are already watery and all i can catch sight of is the stains of the colors of their indigo pants and their whitish shirts rushing around and merging with parts of the sandy ground. i can’t take it anymore.

i don’t wanna be here!                                                            i wanna go home so bad!                                      i wanna lie on my bed and sink into my blankets again!                                                                                                             i don’t like it in here! he’s absent!

my brother has come to check on me, and so have a couple of kids. my brother is hugging me and asking me what’s wrong, but i was right: i can’t give him a reason. some kids are calling me names already: crybaby, spoiled brat, sissy… they’re hopeless, they’d never get this, or why he’s so important to me.

i remember last year, when i hadn’t met by bff yet, i was even lonelier. i could spend the whole recess on my own. it was their paradise, but it wasn’t quite mine. i would imagine that the bricks that formed the wall close to where i religiously sat shaped a magical maze that only i could escape from. i could be right there for hours, everyone else wondering why a kid would stare into the void like that… and it was like that for a really long time, until that day, the day when a kid, a year older than me, got closer and started talking to me–just because. i recall that his hair was dark too, dark like Heaven, and that he smiled to me a great deal. we talked a lot, and he was the one asking questions, because i was way too shy to dare to ask him a thing. if i’m not mistaken, that was the first time i talked to another boy, that was the first time i wished to be together with another boy of my age, that was the first time i looked forward to the next schoolday.                                                      but i never saw him again.

remembering this makes me wanna cry even more! take me home, brother! i knew i shouldn’t have gotten up from my Paradise!

Themonochromeman

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