In from school, kilt off, homework done.
The loyal ones sometimes ring the bell.
Home by eight, no later ok?
The rich ones call me poor.
The local ones think me rich.
I think me ugly; spotty; geek.
Not knowing who I am.
Who do I want to be?
This black gold brings.
Pre-teens with first world problems.
Poor little rich girls.
Whose private education is looked down on.
Whose parents look down on me.
Success never felt.
In from work, suit off.
This short piece is from the Glasgowdragonfly archives.
I scribbled it down to the one word prompt “home” with a challenge time to complete it in five minutes.
I could have written about anything, but the memory of home that my mind immediately jumped to was my life living in Aberdeen, Scotland aged eleven.
That time of my life revolved around the trauma of leaving the safe harbour of my local primary school friends to attend a private school in the city, which proved, initially at least, to be a fairly unhappy crash course in the Lord of the Flies!
Yes, first world problems again, but hey.
We all know that the flailing transition from child to young adult is universally tough, but here, posted unedited after it’s rediscovery, what struck me most about myself is the bad place that I must have been in when I wrote it.
A particularly stressful period at work had stirred up all those same self pitying, miserable, critical and insecure feelings of being the outsider child at “big school.”
Thankfully, those feelings are behind me for now (I think)!
Have you got a default emotional setting from childhood that you revert to when times get tough? Does this reflect in your writing? Or do you manage to switch off your own emotion as a form if escapism?
I’m interested 😉
Hope that you have a fantastic week guys!