I remember
being four years old, standing in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen in Richmond, with the dark blue square-floral wallpaper, pleading with my mum that it would be my birthday again soon, and asking in mournful desperation 'WHEN will it be my birthday again?'
That feeling that time would just never move on that you lose when you become an adult. I dont miss it.
I remember
going out into the back garden as a kid in the freezing cold morning, and swinging on the dark-green-painted metal swing for so long that I couldnt move my fingers out of the grip position when I wanted to go in. I remember the stiffness of my freezing fingers and how it felt like they would snap if I tried to open my hands.
I remember
intentionally provoking my brother. He had set our pet guinea pigs up in a small pen out on the patio, and had ordered me in no uncertain terms to not let them out. While secretly recording him on a small portable tape dictaphone behind my back I told him I had let them out, and then replayed his explosion of rage at full volume on the family stereo, laughing my head off. I then messed around with a couple of tape recorders to make the screaming repeat over and over. I think it went something like 'i-told-you-not-To-Let-THEM-OUT-THE-PEN!!!!' repeated 10 times. He was not nearly so amused as me.
I remember
being 13 years old, completely crushed with infatuation on a Christmas day that I didn't enjoy at all. I remember looking back and wondering what happened, and when Christmas Day stopped being the pure thrill it was when I was younger. I remember being in my bedroom, having seen the girl I was utterly in love with that day, knowing that she didn't know I liked her, and that I would probably never be with her. I remember the emotional anguish in my chest, and a few words of the secret poem I wrote that day, and threw away some years later - 'Am I supposed to be happy?' was the opening line, and 'All I can think of is you' was the close
being four years old, standing in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen in Richmond, with the dark blue square-floral wallpaper, pleading with my mum that it would be my birthday again soon, and asking in mournful desperation 'WHEN will it be my birthday again?'
That feeling that time would just never move on that you lose when you become an adult. I dont miss it.
I remember
going out into the back garden as a kid in the freezing cold morning, and swinging on the dark-green-painted metal swing for so long that I couldnt move my fingers out of the grip position when I wanted to go in. I remember the stiffness of my freezing fingers and how it felt like they would snap if I tried to open my hands.
I remember
intentionally provoking my brother. He had set our pet guinea pigs up in a small pen out on the patio, and had ordered me in no uncertain terms to not let them out. While secretly recording him on a small portable tape dictaphone behind my back I told him I had let them out, and then replayed his explosion of rage at full volume on the family stereo, laughing my head off. I then messed around with a couple of tape recorders to make the screaming repeat over and over. I think it went something like 'i-told-you-not-To-Let-THEM-OUT-THE-PEN!!!!' repeated 10 times. He was not nearly so amused as me.
I remember
being 13 years old, completely crushed with infatuation on a Christmas day that I didn't enjoy at all. I remember looking back and wondering what happened, and when Christmas Day stopped being the pure thrill it was when I was younger. I remember being in my bedroom, having seen the girl I was utterly in love with that day, knowing that she didn't know I liked her, and that I would probably never be with her. I remember the emotional anguish in my chest, and a few words of the secret poem I wrote that day, and threw away some years later - 'Am I supposed to be happy?' was the opening line, and 'All I can think of is you' was the close
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