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Second Installment January 10, 2011

Posted by howibecameawriter in Uncategorized.
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First of all Happy New Year! I took a little longer break than I had anticipated from my blog, but it’s great to be back. So here is more of the stuff I have been writing notes about for years and which one day I hope to see in a published book. The excerpts are in no particular order right now.

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Some of the happiest memories I have from those years have now become some of the saddest too because looking back I know they weren’t really mine. I adored my best friend, Lilly. I wanted to be with her whenever I could, playing outside or in the park. But my favourite thing to do was to spend time with her family, in their house down the street from ours. Even now, whenever I go home to visit, the sight and smells of that house generate so many wonderful memories for me.

I knew I was always on borrowed time; I would have to go back to my own house eventually. And while it wasn’t too bad for the most part, I definitely always preferred to stay at Lilly’s house. What was so great about this house and the people inside it? To me it was heaven. It was the absolute opposite of what I was used to at home. To me, Lilly’s house was a normal one. There was no shouting or arguments except the usual sibling fighting between Lilly and her older brother. I’m sure if I asked her now she would say they were serious arguments but it all just seemed so much fun to me, to have a brother to fight with, I couldn’t understand how anyone could see it differently.

I loved every minute of being at Lilly’s house and would pray that my mum would get delayed in picking me up or Lilly would persuade her mum to let me stay over; that was always the hope anyway so that I could feel completely immersed into this pretend world for a little while longer. I could see my mum had missed me when she came to pick me up but when we got home it would be back to our ‘normal’ again. More arguing, more threats, more shouting matches. This is probably where my total fear of being left out began. I would always leave Lilly’s feeling like I was missing out on something, leaving something I wanted behind me. The family would probably just be watching a movie together or playing games; but this was the kind of thing we never did. I would crave for that kind of inclusion.

At times in my life since those days, I’ve often thought that my insecurities and paranoia had disappeared. But that familiar old feeling of not being accepted by my peers often creeps back. Sometimes it’s a brief passing, othertimes it’s a bit more lingering. I hate missing out on things and feeling like people are purposefully leaving me out of things because I’m not good or ‘normal’ enough – that damn word just keeps cropping up!

I realise most kids want to spend time with their friends and rarely want to go home when they’re told; there’s nothing unusual in that. I guess I felt it was a bit more than that, I actually wanted to live there forever and ever and never have to cope with going home. It felt like I was on a mini holiday from all the usual strife, and like all holidays, I never wanted it to end.

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I know there are people reading this regularly so I am seeking your advice / comments / feedback on the style and content of what I am writing. Please be open and honest, do these small pieces leave you wanting more? Would it be a story you would be interested in reading in full??

As always, thanks for reading.

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Comments»

1. the rhythm method - January 10, 2011

Good beginnings. I do want more – more details. I get the loneliness – the feeling of wanting to belong. Tell me about Lilly’s house – the smells, the textures, her mother. Place me in that house – what is it made of? Is it warm? Cool? Who’s there? What’s happening? I have the storyline, the emotions – I want props, a set, costumes.


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