Personal and Imaginative- Scarred for Life

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Taiba Gultasib

Personal And Imaginative

                                                     

Scarred for Life

This was it.

My legs were lead; my head throbbed violently. It felt as if the energy within me had slowly oozed away. I dragged my feet like I was being held down by iron chains. Gathering every ounce of my might, I heaved myself towards the bench- and collapsed upon it.

Where was I? No clue. That was all I’d been saying to myself since the taxi left. And how long ago was that? Two hours…three hours…four hours? Still no clue. I hated myself for being so thick. If it wasn’t for my ‘thick’ brain, I would have been home by now. Home. I felt useless.

“What the hell you doin’ ere?” I looked up so fast it made my neck click; my anger rose. It was a brown haired boy who I guessed was trying to pass the time. I found him annoying. I wasn’t in the mood of talking to anyone-I hardly ever was.

“You tell me.” I replied stiffly.

“Ain’t seen you around this place.” I felt like punching him. I hated this about some people, butting in when they were least wanted.

“That’s ‘cause I ain’t from dis place.” I grumbled, glancing at him, thinking how much longer is he going to stay? There was a pause. Then, just as soon as I expected him to leave, he demanded, “Where you from then?”

“Look yeh, I don’t know you an’ I ain’t in da mood. So move.” I stated through gritted teeth, giving him the dirtiest look I could muster. He finally got the message and went off, gruffly.

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I didn’t understand myself; I never used to be like this.  My mood switched within seconds and I knew that many people found it hard around me. Even my own mates kept their distance from me at times. But they understood that I had a past. Life had changed a lot for me, and since that change, I was never the same person.

I cast my eyes around, taking in my surroundings. Even though the street lamps were alight, the road seemed unusually dark. I squinted and could just make out the scenes of every day life ...

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