Scared.

I am heavily perspiring

There are trickles of sweat in my brows,

In my hair

On my forehead

It even feels like there are waterfalls in my armpits

I feel like I cannot breathe

Like someone is heavily choking me with some leather belt

My neck feels tightened

And my throat squeezed

And no matter how much am gasping for air

None of it is getting to my lungs

My heart is racing

The adrenaline flashing in my veins is immense

But no matter how hard I’m trying

I cannot move a single muscle

Not even to blink

They’re all tense

I cannot believe what I’m seeing

Not that I want to anyway

But eyes are glued

I have never seen anything like this even in my worst nightmares

This is absolute horror

And I’m completely paralyzed

My blood turns icy

My legs begin to cramp

Heck I can’t move even to ease the pain

A chocked cry for help forces itself up my throat

And a drop runs my cheek.

Take me back

image

I don’t understand myself

I just don’t

Occasionally I lie clueless in bed

Knowing only one thing

That I want to be held by you again

That I miss when you tuck a piece of hair behind my ear

And lift my chin

I miss you looking into my hazel eyes

When you lean on my shoulder

And whisper that you’ll never let go

The sound vibrations make my blood boil

I know it’s cliché

But it sends shivers down my spine

Saliva suddenly escapes my mouth

And my throat becomes dry

My knees weaken

My legs cannot support my weight

I can barely stand on my own

My hands behave as if they’re lifeless

They can’t hold

My heart swells

If it weren’t made of elastic cardiac muscles

I swear it could explode

My breath is slowed

For a split second,

Not one part of me is functional

I think I die

I can’t think

I can’t breathe

I can’t see

I’m motionless

But then I spring back to life when you wrap me in your arms

The only place I believe I belong

But this is all in my head

Because we can’t do this anymore

I can’t do this anymore

A tear flows freely down my cheek

And I lie in bed again

I don’t understand myself

I just don’t

But I know that

I miss the safety

The protection

The homely feeling

The sensation

I miss you.

By laurahstar.

Picture credit:
http://www.condenaststore.com/-sp/A-smiley-face-lies-in-bed-next-to-him-is-a-water-glass-with-his-line-dra-New-Yorker-Cartoon-Prints_i8542053_.htm

WHEN YOU’RE ACCUSTOMED TO PRIVILEGE, EQUALITY FEELS LIKE OPPRESSION.

The merciless beatings, heavy and brutal punishments, lack of enough food and clean water, floods, bedbug infested dormitories and the little space that has to be shared among the seventy of them in the form of a classroom. He vividly describes these experiences and as each word that is uttered amidst sobs falls on my ears,my heart literally drops. I can’t imagine how survival works in areas such as these but they have to go through it day in, day out. I think sometimes they just wait for someone to pass out and say I quit. But this are the crème de la crème. They wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking them! They are broken already on the inside and quit every goddamn day just that they never said it out loud. But here he is. A child that was born and introduced to a life that wasn’t filled with as many struggles. He had studied in private schools all his life until now. Going to bed hungry, being unknown to teachers and fellow students, not given the recognition and attention these things just aren’t what he knows and they feel so new to him. Back then it was a class of just thirty  students tops. He was once a class monitor, a councillor, then a sanitation Secretary before he graduated to headboy. What the seniors and teachers ate is what he ate too; good and tasty food. He slept in a isolated cube and was regarded with awe. Every Tom, Dick and Harry knew him. He was a “celeb” like that.

Here? No one gives a damn. No one wants to know who the hell you are. They’re all there for one reason and one reason alone; to succeed and join the best universities in the world. A teacher won’t recognize you if you don’t get good grades. If you don’t sit at the very front of the class and keep screwing over your mathematics problems, they won’t even know whether or not you’re good at it. They won’t look your way if you aren’t the kid that asks and answers questions in class. Maybe if you dozz off during their lesson and they gotta thwack you to pay attention and stop wasting their precious time. The staff at the cafeteria won’t bother to know who you are. Why should they? If you’re not among those people that make the loudest noises at the canteen and yell for more food each time, you’re as good as non-existent. He can’t chew on a plate of dried sardines. He doesn’t know how to swallow them with their small sharp bones that keep injuring his oesophagus each time he tries. Ugali isn’t one of his favourite dishes. Where is some fried chicken and fries?! Clothes are stolen. It doesn’t matter if the shirt or short fits, if you wash and hang them on the hanging lines and wait for them to dry, you might wait forever because they’ll be long gone. For goodness sake, this poor child doesn’t know what stealing means. I mean he was taught about it here and there, read it in the ten commandments but he’s now beginning to comprehend what a cruel verb it truly is.

His past conditioning is to blame for every time that little feeling of oppression bubbles up in his tiny body frame. He’s never been equal to anybody but is now subject to equality.
The titles have been scrapped off, badges taken down and shoes laced up. Privileges are earned here. Never about who you know but what you know and how you make your way to the top. I’m telling him that he now needs to be an astute student. That he should study assiduously. With every pain and annoyance, he’s going to take it and with a smile on his face. And one day he’ll be an icon. His testimony will encapsulate all the experiences he’s undergoing now and will give an answer to life’s most vexing question; how did you cope?! And on those days when grass will be greener, he’ll use this to attempt to resolve acute tensions that others will feel in their own lives.

I will return.

Look at them
Walking steadily, starring focusedly into the horizon
Documents in their hands, well dressed, pens in their breast pockets for the males
And the ladies in their skirt suits
Swiftly they pass
They seem organized,
Like they know who they are,
Who they really are
like they know what they’re doing,
The right thing
Like they know where they’re headed,
Their destination
Like they know what awaits them,
Can they predict it?
But they sure seem to be preparing well for it.

And me?
What about me?
I feel like I’m lost in the middle of the street
Totally confused
I don’t  know what I’m doing
I don’t know  what direction I’m  headed
I don’t know what I want
I know nothing
They keep bumping into me
Asking me to watch where I’m   going, giving me funny stares
Is there something wrong with me?
With my face? My appearance?
Am I different?
Is it that obvious?

What am I even doing here?
Is this where I should be?
At this time?
Amongst all these people?
I don’t think I’m  equipped
I don’t think I’m  ready yet
No!
I need to go
I should go somewhere quiet
Somewhere with less traffic
I need somewhere I can think  clearly
Where I can look deep inside of me
You know, to try figure myself out
I think I need the air to myself
Coz here, where I’m standing
It’s like I’m in the middle of the street, suffocating but no one can notice me
I’m screaming for help
It’s the loudest I can get
But no one seems to hear me
No one even bothers to turn
Am I invisible?

I’m not fleeing,
But I assure you I will return.