[Original] Petals of Asphalt-2. A book by its cover in parchment. New
II.
Dear D (i) ary,
Today my grandmother came to visit us. It smelled of talcum powder, Ross rose water and candy. He brought us a gift of two beautiful books, of book binding, cover with parchment paper. One for me and one for Marianna.
It is strange that allow us to have something of the same, but perhaps because his grandmother is an elderly person and not think about these things. And I do not know, sometimes I get the impression that the grandmother is a bit 'on my side, I want a good special.
before locking themselves in the studio with her mother, as every Saturday, he gave me a vigorous pat on the head and told me to make good use of that book and who knows that will not disappoint. Fortunately
Marianna went out with dad to go to dance, otherwise he would know how many stories to that caress unbalanced.
Then I decided that I will use this notebook to write something for me to become my special friend.
That's why I called Darius, Persian, and as the leader as the first high school boy who has such beautiful green eyes and that I never considered.
He is the club volleyball, but I'm too small to play volleyball. And I'm always afraid that the ball is on me and hurt me.
Dario, I have a picture of me and sticks to show you here, maybe one of these days I'll stop the machine automatically after school and a scatter. For now be content with what I say.
I'm not a nice guy, I'm sorry. They are small of stature, even though my father always tells me it will grow again because "he's grown a lot after sixteen years" (although still low) and thin (last week I got fifty pounds for the first time in my life). I
blacks with red hair, curly and as far as trying to cure them remain stubbornly curly. I do not like.
am proud of my nose is thin and small and I'm always afraid that the ball may fall over and ruin.
I have freckles that are mixed up with pimples.
Well, crap, here.
I'd pay anything to say to not be an Achilles, but Patroclus at least one and not a Thersites. Alex, my best friend, says I be foolish to think so.
My mother said that Maria and I are alike so much, that we have the same rebellious curls, the same cut of the eyes, the same expression a little 'angry.
only that she is taller than me, is robust and has a beautiful bosom, as all the male members of the school are the buzzes and she comes home every Saturday evening accompanied by a different one.
you make the high school, but a false one, to Scolopi, I state high school classic.
In class I do not feel so bad.
Given that I did not notice it right away, here. I do not like talking, I prefer to stay quiet and minding my own business, study and take ten in important matters (it also takes into less important, but without paying attention).
When I was in elementary school once the teachers have told my mother with a mixture of pride and worry that I was kind of a little genius because in second grade already reading books for those of the fifth. I just do not talk to other children. Apart
Alessandra. It was a secret between me and her my voice - although to be honest I love it because she always talks.
Ah, I do not remember if I told Darius, Alex is my best friend. You'll enjoy it. She is tall and strong - to say he is fat and is always on a diet, but I think it's beautiful Junoesque it is - has a pair of thick glasses from Frame branded has long brown hair clear smooth as spaghetti and eyes hazelnut. La Know kindergarten.
Alessandra has a voice mellifluous, somewhat 'set meanwhile - do both part choir school - especially is tireless. In long afternoons winter my room or summer seaside when raging hot she fills my hours talking. Di what read, some prof. antipathetic, tasks, adolescent why took a cotta a book who read or film maybe we saw together. Parla always somehow self.
His tone gives me peace and calms me when sad.
You know, Dario, I often be a bit 'sad, very sad strange, almost sickening. I think it's 'uncomfortable age', because in the end there is nothing in my life that just will not go.
My mother always tells me that I have not a girl, but I'm not sure that what interests me.
Father, when Maria began to go out at night always with a different one, says it's better that way, at least I have that opinion. Marianna
Last night was one of its crisis, this time against our parents. That's weird, usually gets angry with me.
I was already asleep because I go to school even on Saturdays - not like her! - When I awoke to the screams.
I know that my sister had not taken his medication. I wanted to stay warm in bed - it scares me when my sister does so - but eventually I did, because Marianna shouted and my father more. When I went into the living room her mother's face was red and weeping. It made me feel. Santa
he held her by the arms and then I understood. He nodded and went to their rooms, where they keep the drugs. I felt like a robot many times I did this thing. When I got back into the living room I stretched out on drugs mum, but she pretended not to see me. Did not respond. So I went I to my sister, to have them taken.
She became all purple-faced and began shouting "filthy little worm" and "Thief maniac," and to accuse me of stealing her T-shirt with lace.
I did not touch anything! I would have liked to shout "Bitch," but I know that I am not allowed to cry out against, but I began to tremble with rage. I dropped the drugs, fortunately did not break the bottle. My mother eventually moved to pick them up, told me that I'm no good at all.
I disappointed. Again. I know I should I look after my sister. I ran to my room, breathless.
But that's not why I'm sad. Maybe I do not know. It seems to me to never do enough, to be the dog chasing bone, but can never grasp it.
I'm a fool, that's what they are.
Alessandra saw me sick this morning at school. Became aware that I struggled to stand up, I sleep. I only said that Marianna was sick again, she put on a smile of compassion and the matter ended there. A recreation
told me about this guy she likes, which I have to give my opinion. She always asks my opinion when it comes to males. I do not know, I know that we understand more than you, although I have not spoken of the sympathy I have for Dario - the real one, not you.
He also asked me if I go out with this and she and her friend, but I do not really want. He began to pray, to make her sad eyes and tell me you are not a good friend if I leave it alone with a guy who might as well jump on the first date as far as I know. What I have to defend.
I persuaded easily.
The output has been nothing short of bankruptcy. The guy who likes to Alessandra is a first class asshole and Alessandra does not like either, he kept looking at other girls. At some point you are secluded, I think I've asked Alex to fuck and she told him no, because then came to pull me away by the arm.
But the friend an asshole, Marisa, was nice, especially because he has made it clear I did not care. The thing was a relief for me.
We talked of literature and manga - wow, we like the same! - Left me his number and said that maybe one of these days I will be looking for in a school playground.
Today, when I got home, my father was waiting outside in the garden, which is strange because I do not expect anyone. He said he wanted to take me for a ride, get something to eat out. His face was grotesque, of trying to hide things.
"What happened, Daddy?" I asked, already imagining some kind of tragedy.
"Your sister has been in a mess. He had one of its crisis to school attacked a companion who had approached in too explicit. "Mi told at school has happened large casino which them called and which perhaps Marianna there can return.
"Now you're great, I want you to know things as they are," he said when we sat outside at a table in the bar two blocks from home. I felt taut as a violin string.
"You and your sister are growing ... and however I and thy mother we tried you to best grow and not make weigh differences among yourselves not we succeeded. "Finally I thought inside me now me hurrying do what want. 'm Sick can not do things I want because makes Marianna. How dance. How piano. Like a thousand other things. Instead was not this discourse my father wanted me.
"Marianne is unfortunate, it is not as smart as you, ha ... has a psychiatric problem, do you understand? "
" I do not have five years, father, "I said a bit 'offended.
"See, your sister .. Your sister will never grow at all. His brain will never develop like yours or mine. This does not mean it's stupid, but just different. Just that people not understands and increasingly seeks harm her and take advantage her. You must be patient with her, do not respond as bad as you usually do, you try to protect it. And help loving good. "
" I love her, "I protested. "But it's annoying! And it's violent. It scares me. "
" It's your sister, you understand that you would never hurt you "I told him seriously and I wanted to cry and shout:" No! "Because she has often done wrong, since children. That's why sometimes I hate her.
"You have to understand that she sees in you what you want to be her. You can do whatever you want in life and not her. Do you think we want more good for you because you're smarter, because you good in all, we must make them understand that it is not true. That she deserves love. And you have to first look to prove it. Do you promise? "
" But it is not right! "I wanted to scream, but I felt guilty about even thinking such a thing. Marianna is my sister, I love her, rightly so.
"Yes, father."
"I knew you'd understand, Luke, you're a very mature guy for your age." Well, at least for this my love me, because they say they are 'mature'. Although sometimes I see other kids with their little problems, that would change the motor, a pair of shoes and their parents who would not want to buy and I seem to be infinitely happier. More carefree. I
carefree I do not know what it is. Sometimes I seem to be in a cage. The night I wake up with my heart in my throat, the fear that Marianna will wake up and shout at me to be against. My father continued to give me a long speech about what his mother suffer for Marianna starcisi almost to the point of getting sick and then I try to be good with her, to help and not annoyed. Because the situation is delicate.
And if mom gets mad and treats me so bad - it happened a few days ago, after I wrote it because I was not even the strength to write, dear Dario, I lingered half an hour to return from school and she went on a rampage, yelling at me and told me that I am a son distorted and then brought me a slap - in short, my father said I must try to understand it. Which sometimes overreact.
I felt even more alone when I spoke. I've always felt alone, since I started to be large enough to prove the solitude. Sometimes families watched television, those with a loving father and mother who prepares the pies, and I start to cry.
Why I do not have the right to a normal family?
But in the end those are just illusions, I guess all families are like mine.
0 comments:
Post a Comment