Diary of a lost wanderer: Growing up!




Dear diary, 

Today Mamma Papa fought again. Their screams filled the air and hung around like swords long before silence swallowed it completely, burying the whole house in silence. I remembered by fight with Hari. 

Two weeks ago we had fought in school when I had noticed Hari speak to some other classmates. I felt ignored and we fought. He told me he wasn’t ignoring me and that I was his best friend, but I continued fighting till he gave me a chocolate and said sorry. I don’t wonder on what Mamma-Papa are fighting on. I wonder if none of them thought of giving the chocolate first and saying sorry. It would have ended the whole fight long back. Should I share my chocolate that is lying in the fridge, asking them to just say sorry. 

No. Bad idea, Maria says kids should not interfere in grown up’s matters. I argued that this is not interference; rather I am trying to solve things. But one look on her face and I knew I had to shut up. At the school Miss Mary says when you love someone you cannot stay angry over them for long. That applies to me and Hari, we fight one moment and the next moment we are back to being the best friends ever. Do Mamma-Papa also feel so? 

 Today in the drawing class today we were asked to draw a house and make it as close to real as possible. My drawing was a story told in blacks and browns. The teacher didn’t scold me. She stared at me for long before asking, “Are you okay child?” I nodded. Then she asked me, “Is your home like this? All black?” and once again I just nodded and walked back to my seat. 

Okay, my house walls are not black. But the way I see them, they are drowned in fights and screams, that’s why the beautiful off white walls look black to me all the time. I have never told this to anyone but sometimes at night when I walk down to my room the walls threaten of closing down onto me, crushing me between them till I have no breath left in me to fight. I almost run through the corridor most of the times. I am scared but whom do I tell. Maria is never home at night. 

I am soon going to be a teenager and I am still wondering how childish I sound at times. How do you know when you grow up? Is it when a chocolate stops pleasing you after a fight? Or when you no longer feel afraid of the dark, for then you know the unknown by then. There are no monsters waiting for you in the dark room, because like Maria says monsters can be befriended. Maybe! 

Waiting, 
Myra

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