I am wide awake now. I glance at the shadows on my bedroom wall and allow my mind to drift back to another time, another life! I see their faces and wonder what they are doing, how the past few years have treated them. Do they think of me? Do they care? My life has changed so much, I’ve changed so much. When I left I felt such anger and resentment. I was an only child you see. They, my parents had me late in life and I was such a disappointment. They tried so hard to live their lives through me. But as they often pointed out I wasn’t good enough. “No good at sport! No good at Music! No good at any bloody thing, a complete looser.” I hear her voice, screaming in my head. I turn over now trying to get more comfortable, the shadows lengthen and I feel myself starting to drift away.
The alarm clock say’s 7am, I turn over in an attempt to sleep, but I’m interrupted by her yell. The walls appear to be closing in on me. The dark blue wallpaper is oppressive like a mournful sky. The football players stare in a mocking fashion from the poster I did not choose. Sport is not my thing. The brilliant white trainers with their snake laces are still at the foot of my bed a reminder of last nights battle. The tick tock of the clock echoes in my small room. The room that should be my sanctuary, my place is not my place, it’s theirs like every thing else. I can’t be me, I’m not allowed! I can’t express my self, without their anger. I dress slowly, the tick tock of the clock a constant reminder that I can’t delay the inevitable any longer. I slouch down the narrow dark stairwell, the darkness reflecting my mood. She doesn’t speak, just pushes a bowl of cereals in my direction. Her disappointment in me doesn’t need words it’s in her stance, the way she looks at me. Well she won’t need to be disappointed for much longer! I push the cereals around in the dish for a few seconds then slouch back up the stairs. I grab my bag, my bank book, the alarm clock that mocks me and glance for the final time around my prison cell! I am escaping at last the prison that has been my home for fifteen years.
Tick tock, tick tock I raise my hands to block out the sound. Then I remember what day it is. I quickly dress for work. Run down the stairs and pick up the mail, there are no cards amongst the mountain of junk mail. I think of them as I pour a cup of tea and feel sad. Too many years have gone by, too much as happened. Will they think of me today? will they care? The dark blue walls of the kitchen remind me of another room another time. The clock ticks out the passing time. I bend down to tie the laces of my new white trainers, a birthday present to myself! May be I’II call them today. May be.