Monday, June 27, 2005

My Thirteen-Year-Old Self Broke Into My Room

And he was confused. He did not know who lived there. He saw nothing really familiar. He was mad at me for not being who he thought I was going to be. I felt sorry for him because he was naive. He had not yet figured out what life was about. I saw him cry in the corner of my room, and I cried on the other corner. He looked at me and wondered why I dress the way I do. He wants me to be an architect. I want him to open his eyes.
But we talked and got to know each other. We have so much in common. We have so many differences.
He saw my guitar and told me he always really wanted to play it. I told him I learned just for him. He saw my books. Novels and collections of short stories. He said he spent most of his time in the library reading. I told him I would write something that would one day be in a library. He saw my photographs and said he was glad I was good at something. I told him I try my best. He listened to my music. He did not like it. He thought it was strange and he told me he would not listen to it again. I laughed. He went through my movies. He told me they looked boring and dumb. I reminded him he read some pretty dumb books, but he said he liked them.
He went through my clothes and told me he didn't like much of what I wear. I told him he would, in time. He found my drawing pad and told me he could do better. He was right. He went through my journals and wanted me to rewrite some of the entries and makek them happier. I told him it was too late, but that when I write future ones, I would try my best to make him happy.
He told me he liked to be alone. I answered him by saying it frightened me. He told me he went fishing last weekend. I told him I went yesterday, for the first time since he went. I promised him I would not go long without it again.
He said goodbye but he didn't leave. He is with me still. He likes to dress up as a ninja and climb trees. He wraps towels around his neck and pretends they are capes. He watches cartoons on saturday mornings and in the hot afternoons runs around outside fighting monsters and keeping the grass short. He has many adventures. I sit down and write about him.

1 comment:

Sarah said...

no wonder your in creative writing