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propaganda.net : Skole & Jobb
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Engelsk kåseri om livet.
Engelsk - KåseriForfatter:



It is strange how a man can block things that have happened in life, if it is terrible. The rare with it is that it is not aware either, it just happens. Without further as it happens, little by little, as days, months and years go by. For one day you realize that you remember nothing of the day, or in my case, the period.

It started in elementary school. The school was broken into the schoolyard, all the children (that is, those who were 6-9 years) were on the small wing, in front of the building and those who were "old" found itself on the farm behind the school. No children were allowed to set foot on the schoolyard. As I was small, I was plump with a large bowling cap and the way to big clothes that didn’t fit me. I had brown hair curled and golden brown eyes. In the start it was my mother who decided what to have for me, which was fine to begin with.

Fourth year in school when I was 9 years old, we moved over to the schoolyard, it was really great. The smell of maturity was around us, it was at least how we felt it. This was a new era, a new chapter in my life. I was so happy. No problems, no worries, I thought. What is left of my memories from the first day when we were moving over to the school farm stores is the feeling of being happy, no worries. Otherwise, there is little I am sure about that period in my life when I felt that I was bullied by the class. At least suppose I was, it would in that case, explained why my parents took me to the psychologist. True to say I am not so sure of one thing anymore. I have sometimes mentioned that I was almost sure it had happened, but it has been declined as a not-existing event. In the past there have been more and more often. With all the memories that now have been rejected as an actual event, I have begun to question about my other memories. This worries me so much that I actually played with the thought that I had two lives. One by actual events and with distorted events, and others' experiences, inserted in my own memory.



Because of how I was, or whatever that happen to me, I have always been unable to perceive what others feel. It did that I had, I am still struggling, to let people get note to me. Nor have I been able responded that the other has it hurt or upset. "Sorry" was not in my vocabulary until a year ago. When I look back on the countless times I could have excused me, and may have been friends or acquaintance with more than it is today, sometimes I start to cry. It is like a blunt knife as quiet and cautious, but safe, cut up my soul, my heart, my life. There is not one day I would like about a chance, just a chance ... It is not something I wouldn’t sacrificed for a chance to say, shout out the word that is still not in my daily speech, "excuse me", "sorry" if I have done something wrong, "sorry" for that I let the second step on me, "sorry" for that I live.

The other day I had a nightmare. I saw me for my "memories". I saw myself. I saw it as if I was struck, as I was bullying, I rejected "me", myself. I continued to turn the "me". It did not like "me", that is, I marked the words abuse, violence. I drew me in from the "me". I saw "me" stand out in the rain, first Kneeling, and then “me” turned to stand straight up. I saw “me" lifted his face and looked up into the sky. It rained heavily, of the kind that makes you soaked in just a few seconds. I saw me standing there, not even moving, as a statue. I felt renewed, as if I had grown from me the uncertainty, all the bad memories. The rain had "sprayed" by me everything that had to do my past.



I woke up, completely wet by sweat. It rained out. I looked at the clock, it was 03.09. I stood up, had to change clothes to bed. Afterwards I went and took a shower, a hot shower. I was as long as the hot water did. I think I had water running over me over half an hour. Had to go back to sleep again, it was the school in a few hours.

The rain continued when I stood up. I took my time to go to school. I could. It was the shortest way to school. I Went out of the house earlier than usual. I didn’t follow anyone. Took my time to feel the rain all over me, and felt that my hair was all wet, and then the clothes. It didn’t bother me if I could get sick. It was hot. I could feel rain drops one by one hit me in the face. It was a relief. No worries. Nothing, only that I have good legs planted on the field.

At school, there was regular school. I smiled to everyone I met. I always smiled. Do not know why. I was just tired of having a sad or angry face, that one day I decided I just smile.

I became friends with all in the class. It's strange. I remember when I couldn’t speak with anyone, when I was the one all seemed sorry for, or when I was the one to be talked behind my back, or maybe not. Maybe it didn’t happen, maybe I hallucinating. Maybe I was popular in the class. I do not know.

It was my birthday a few days ago. I was fifteen. I didn’t feel fifteen. I did not look like one. I didn’t behave like a fifteen year old teenager. I have felt in the past as someone old. I feel old. I feel that I am as an old man, and when he looks at the young, he smiles and remembers back to a time when he was just wild, and sill felled in love. I'm the old man, for during breaks so, I see, observe if you want to say it, the other children plays. I was watching young boys teasing the girls to get attention. The girls screaming and crying out just before they run and chase boys with a good smile in the face, all the energy. I start to smile. My heart was delighted with what I see. See the others have fun. See the smile. See the others have to go through what I did. See other live.

When I now look toward the future, I hope that it is kinder to me than it was before. And if it continues to show me their grief full face, I will smile broadly against it. If I'm lucky, maybe they’ll smile back or maybe not. But for now I am happy. I smile.

Yes, it is as it should be.




annonse
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