Twelve Years Ago.

There was this red wooden house at the playground, placed on 4 poles and you had to climb a ladder to go inside. It was very small at the inside and way too small for me to hide in there. It rained heavily, a grey wall of opaque water. I sat there, freezing, wet, crying, waiting for the time to pass, looking at our balcony and watching the light in the living room going on and off. I don't remember my thoughts, but I remember how I felt. How lost everything seemed. How much I wanted to be somewhere else than inside this house, how much I wanted to go home, how much I wanted to be happy. How stupid I felt after senseless hours of hiding and how much I didn't want to lie to my Mother. How much I didn't want to lie at all.
I could barely move after 5 hours of not moving at all, I felt every bone, every muscle, walking home in slow motion, happy to be home.

How it is to be lonely. How it is to be eight years old.


06:48 + 15.06.06

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